


5:43

by Lagerstatte



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Anal Gaping, Biting, Blood, Fisting, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sex Toys, Violent Sex, Werewolves, Xeno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-10-05 19:37:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 22,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17331113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lagerstatte/pseuds/Lagerstatte
Summary: Noct and Gladio are werewolves. They fuck Ignis; Prompto watches from the sidelines and joins in when it's safe.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [neomeruru](https://archiveofourown.org/users/neomeruru/gifts).



> You asked for porn, and you got porn! I hope you like it!
> 
> With all my thanks to [redacted], who helped edit <3

Ignis’ alarm rang, and he rolled over to turn it off. A secondary alarm blinked up on the screen: Full Moon. Or it would be at 20:49, his phone told him. Moonset was at 5:43.  
  
He hadn’t needed the reminder. He never did, but turning them off altogether seemed rather incautious.  
  
The day of the full moon had a different routine to other days. Breakfast was larger than normal, and he forsook a shower, knowing he’d take one later on. He packed an overnight bag and stored it carefully in the armiger. He sent a text to Gladio, briefly asking if everything with him was as it should be, and got an answer back in seconds: all good see you tonight ;)  
  
He was fairly sure he’d be seeing Gladio at some point before that night, the normal workday stretching out in front of both of them, but that remained beside the point. He’d be seeing Gladio in a rather more significant manner on moonrise, and it was to that Gladio was referring to. Indeed, he replied with, because he knew better than to let Gladio think he was ignoring him, on this day of all days.  
  
The urge to putter, to fuss around with packing his briefcase and sweeping and looking for a shirt he wasn’t sure whether was in the laundry or not, was very almost strong enough to make him late to Noct’s. He wasn’t late — he hadn’t been late in years and wasn’t looking to start now — but he’d had to walk briskly, and he’d been lucky the traffic and line in the bakery and fishmonger had been more forgiving than it could be. Armed with a loaf of bread, still warm, fresh fish and bacon and eggs, chicken, pastries and yoghurt and honey, he arrived at Noct’s apartment.  
  
"Good morning," he called out as he took off his shoes and jacket, because he knew this was the one morning of the month when he wouldn’t be required to pry Noct from his bed. He took a deep, measured breath before stepping out from the safety of the hallway. He could feel his heart thump in his chest, even though he had no reason to fear Noct. Not for another fourteen hours, at any rate.  
  
"Specs." Noct was waiting for him, and he pressed up against Ignis’ back as Ignis put his bags down on the kitchen counter. His hands landed on Ignis’ hips to hold him still. His teeth found the junction of Ignis’ neck and shoulder under Ignis’ shirt collar, and he bit down.  
  
"I was about to ask what you’d like for breakfast," Ignis said, forcing his voice light, forcing himself not to move, not to struggle as Noct’s teeth dug in, bruising. "But I’m afraid I’m not on the menu."  
  
Noct’s tongue pressed down within the brackets of his blunt, human teeth. Ignis counted his breathing, closing his eyes, feeling his chest rise and fall, the air moving inside him: the meditative state at its most basic, connecting body and mind with the consciousness of his own breathing. He didn’t say anything more. To just wait would be best.  
  
Noct shifted closer, pressing hard enough against Ignis to bump his hips forward into the side of the kitchen counter. His tongue moved, lapping at Ignis’ skin. Then he lifted his teeth and pressed his lips to the two little rows of bruises he’d left behind.  
  
"Breakfast, Noct."  
  
"Don’t care," Noct said into Ignis’ skin.  
  
"I have the ingredients for mother and child bowl, if you don’t mind waiting. Or there’re pastries."  
  
"Whatever."  
  
"Noct," Ignis said, as gently as he could, even though he knew he sounded patronising. "I need a little space to start cooking."  
  
“I’m hungry now," Noct said. He opened his mouth again, as if to take a bite of Ignis’ flesh.  
  
Ignis didn’t let himself flinch. "There’s bread," he said, and as he spoke, half-way through the two word sentence, he realised how utterly ridiculous he sounded; Noct laughed into his neck.  
  
It broke the tension. Noct backed off, heading over to throw himself on the sofa to stare at Ignis with pale eyes. "All right," he said. "I want mother and child bowl."  
  
"Certainly."  
  
Ignis went to lay out the ingredients on the kitchen counters, and he cut the bread anyway, setting down a plate on the coffee table for Noct to distract himself with. There was rice already in the fridge from where he’d left it to soak the previous night, and dashi if Noct wanted soup; he put the rice on to cook and busied himself ignoring Noct’s eyes on him as he started preparing the meal.  
  
Full moon days were often lazy days — or, at least, lazy for the Royal Family and a couple of closely associated families, of which included the Amicitias. Depending on the moon cycle, the timing of its rise and fall, Noct spent anywhere from a full work day plus overtime at the Citadel to not bothering to leave his apartment at all. Today, he would be spending more or less the whole day in, returning by 20:00. Ignis glanced at the clock as he dropped onion into the broth. On time, still, if only just.  
  
No one would blame him, or even raise an eyebrow, if he and Noct were to turn up late. But he preferred they didn’t regardless.  
  
"Are you ready to leave after eating?" He looked over to see Noct still watching him, the plate in front of him empty. "Did you want any more bread? I could fry an egg for you."  
  
Noct made a careless noise. "Sure. You’re not training with Gladio today, are you?"  
  
"Not today. You know I don’t, Noct." Ignis cut the bread and got out a frying pan for the egg.  
  
Noct bared his teeth when Ignis glanced up at him, but in a careless way. "I want soup, too," he said. When Ignis came over to collect the plate for topping up, he grabbed Ignis’ arm and yanked him down onto his knees in front of the sofa.  
  
"I want you now," Noct said, hard and breathless and with the edge of a growl that would sound ridiculous coming from a nineteen year old, except that Ignis knew that growl from the deep chest of something much larger, hungrier, and far less tame.  
  
"Tonight," Ignis said, almost breathless, caught in the pin-prick gaze of Noct’s eyes; in the back of his mind he told himself it was lucky he hadn’t put the egg or chicken on to cook yet, since both would be overdone by the time Noct let go of him. He let Noct tug him forwards, one hand fisted in his shirt collar and the other around the back of his neck, shoving him around in the agony of a frustrated urge, an instinct that was currently impotent. "Noct," Ignist said, somewhere between pleading and careful as Noct pushed him over onto his back, kneeling on the sofa cushions, ready to clamber down on top of him. "Noct."  
  
Noct blinked, paused, and let him go with a tch. "Whatever," he said, and Ignis tried not to scramble up too quickly as he retreated back into the kitchen, hiding the shake in his hands as he put on the egg to fry and chicken to simmer in the broth. He half expected to be taken down again, seized from behind and dragged back to the floor, but Noct stayed obediently on the sofa, and Ignis kept the coffee table between them when he placed the bread and fried egg down for him.  
  
Noct ate it silently, and the soup and mother and child bowl too, when Ignis brought them over. Ignis washed up, feeling Noct’s eyes on his back. By the time he’d finished Noct had settled back on the sofa, done eating, eyes half closed. "Are you still hungry?" Ignis said. "I have some other things, if you wanted them."  
  
Noct shook his head and yawned. "Nah. That was good."  
  
"In which case," Ignis said, drying his hands, "you’d best get yourself ready to leave."  
  
There was a complex web of interactions on full moon days; some people, Noct would be able to meet freely with, like Gladio — to strengthen their pack bond, to force them to learn to interact with each other when tensions were highest. Gladio was one of the people Ignis could not be alone with, on full moon days.  
  
He worked through lunch without eating, then forced himself to stop watching the clock as the early afternoon ticked on. Then, at 17:30, Ignis packed up, sent the last email of the day, and went to pick up Prompto.  
  
Prompto was bouncing on the balls of his feet, hair spiked up, just out of the shower. His eyes caught Ignis and he bounded over to him, grinning wildly in the way Ignis could tell was partly out of trepidation, and most from the eager nervousness he got when he was very excited.  
  
"Hey! Hey, Iggy, ready to go?"  
  
His violet eyes peeked up at Ignis as they walked side by side to the car, and his grin wasn’t abating. "Ready as I’ll ever be," Ignis said, and was pleased by how dry and pleasant his voice came out.  
  
They didn’t talk much in the drive back to Noct’s apartment. Prompto fidgeted, kicking his toes up against ceiling of the footwell, and bobbed his head to some song or other stuck in his head. Ignis concentrated on the road. He also wondered what Noct was doing — whether Noct knew he was on his way to prepare himself for the full moon ahead, and was thinking about it.  
  
Ignis hoped he was paying attention to whatever he was meant to be doing, instead.  
  
The doorman at the apartment building nodded to Ignis as they entered, and Ignis could feel his knowing eyes on his back. Or perhaps that was being vain; perhaps he was looking at Prompto, the newest addition to the prince’s personal retinue. Or perhaps he didn’t care enough to look at them at all.  
  
Unlocking the front door, Ignis let Prompto in first, and tidied his and Prompto’s shoes as Prompto moved off into the apartment. He’d already cleaned the majority of the space the previous night, and Noct’s bedroom that morning as Noct had finished getting ready. With Prompto getting started with moving furniture around there wasn’t much for him to do other than to start his own preparations.  
  
"Did you need a hand?" he asked Prompto anyway, even though he knew what the answer would be.  
  
"Nah, I got this. You go on," Prompto said, and waved a hand in the direction of the bathroom. His face was a little flushed, but whether that was from the effort of moving the furniture out of the way, or from something else, Ignis couldn’t tell — though he supposed that it was unlikely to be the former, given Prompto’s rapidly increasing strength and stamina.  
  
The shower he took was long, and extensive. He scrubbed under his nails, between his toes, and behind his ears. He cleaned between his legs carefully, and inside himself, and he then made sure to scrub all over again to get as much of the soap smell off as possible. For all that it was specifically designed, and the one chosen by Noct as least offensive, Noct still grumbled when he could smell or taste it. He washed his hair, removing the product from it, rinsing it over and over. When he got out of the shower, skin pink, feeling overly hot and scrubbed raw, he brushed his teeth, dried his hair, and got dressed in the clothes he kept in Noct’s apartment, that smelt of Noct. He left his spectacles in the bathroom.  
  
Prompto was waiting for him in the living room. "Took your time," he said, grinning up at Ignis, slipping his phone back in the armiger.  
  
"Some of us have standards to maintain," Ignis said in reply, and let Prompto pull him down onto the sofa beside where he was sitting. As soon as he was down Prompto clambered onto his lap and kissed him.  
  
He tasted like the energy drink he must have taken from Noct’s fridge. He was warm and wet and he dragged the kiss out of Ignis, sucking on the tip of his tongue, his lower lip, carrying him along like a river getting deeper and faster and stronger, with no way out. When he broke the kiss they were both panting, and Prompto looked half triumphant, half concerned.  
  
The concern rankled, and so did the way he said: "You okay, Iggy?"  
  
"I’m fine," Ignis said, which was what he always said, and always would say.  
  
Prompto’s hands ran up and down his arms. "You’re kinda shaking," he said, ruthlessly kind.  
  
"I’m fine," Ignis said. Prompto was human, and therefore wouldn’t be able to hear his heartbeat, or smell the fresh prickle of sweat on his palms, armpits, and back. He could still feel Ignis shake, apparently.  
  
They kissed again, and Ignis sat forwards on the edge of the seat to allow Prompto to undo his shirt and pull it off, dropping it to the floor.  
  
"Not that I’m complaining," Prompto said as they broke apart, and he knelt in front of Ignis to tug off his trousers and underwear. "But why even bother getting dressed? Not like Noct’s stink isn’t going to get all over you from everything else."  
  
"Force of habit," Ignis said, and waited for a moment for Prompto to get the pun. He didn’t get it; it hadn’t been a very good one, Ignis supposed, and Prompto was also distracted. And, well, it was a valid question. He might as well have stayed naked.  
  
He pulled his overnight bag from the armiger and placed it on the floor next to Prompto. One of Prompto’s hands stayed on his thigh, as an afterthought, perhaps, while the other tugged open the bag eagerly. He could see, just about, the bulge of Prompto’s erection through his jeans.  
  
Prompto’s hand moved up from his thigh, warm over his body as it reached his chest and shoved him gently sideways. Obediently, Ignis turned onto his front to lie down, arms folding beneath his chin. He arched his back a little; he lifted his head to watch Prompto sort through the toys and lubricant, arranging them on the floor in some seemingly random order. He hoped the humiliated flush was not as obvious as it felt, radiating off his face like a beacon. Lying on his front, seeing the contents of his own bag laid out, he felt whorish.  
  
It was for Noct and Gladio. No one who mattered thought any less of him.  
  
Prompto was human, and thus not affected by the lunar cycle. He seemed to share in the feral excitement regardless. He took the smallest of the toys, small and slim, and upturned the bottle of lubricant over it. When he pressed it against Ignis’ hole, who spread his legs for it, he leant down and kissed the back of his thigh, close-lipped and sweet.  
  
The lubricant was cold and the toy small enough to slip in effortlessly. Ignis rocked his hips to adjust to it, and Prompto made a pleased sound as his fingers nudged up against the curve of Ignis’ arse.  
  
"Nice," he said, and moved up close to Ignis’ thighs. His nose, or possibly the tip of his chin, grazed Ignis and made him shiver more than the toy being slowly pumped in and out of his tight hole.  
  
They worked up through the sizes, from slim and gentle to bigger, longer and thicker, and longer and thicker again. For each new toy Prompto pressed kisses to Ignis’ sweat-slick back and thighs and told him he was great, he was amazing, he was so, so good. He murmured into Ignis’ skin that he was kinda jealous even though he knew he’d never be able to do it, and he probably wouldn’t actually want it even if he could, but he thought Ignis was so freaking hot and seeing him take Noct and Gladio’s knots was so hot and he didn’t know how he did it, how he took them pounding their giant wolf dicks into his ass, one after the other, and Prompto couldn’t wait until he could see Ignis on the floor, ass gaping and dripping wolf spunk from his swollen hole—  
  
They were about half-way through the toys. Ignis had had to resort to deep breathing, the push into him no longer easy, though not especially difficult either. The first real sting of pain as the latest toy stretched him made him shift, turn his head into his arms and roll his hips to try and accommodate its rigid length. "Come on, Iggy," Prompto said, and pressed it in a little deeper, pulling it out entirely, rubbing the blunt tip over his clenched hole until he loosened, and then inserting it in again. Ignis could feel himself squeeze down on it and forced himself to relax. "I know you can take more than that," Prompto was saying. "There’s no way this tiny thing is causing you trouble."  
  
The cool trickle of fresh lubricant made his breath jump in his throat, and Prompto made a quiet, amused sound. The toy moved as Prompto adjusted his grip and starting pumping it in faster, working up to a steady speed. He didn’t try to angle it to push past Ignis’ prostate, but the tug and friction of it, the feel of its wet hardness forcing in and out of him, made Ignis moan deeper than before, quiet and low. His cock started to harden, pleasure creeping into his belly like heat leaching into a sun-bathed rock.  
  
A few more thrusts and Prompto tugged out the toy entirely, leaving Ignis suddenly breathless with its absence. He pushed it back in, all the way in a single long slide, then out again, and Ignis pressed his forehead down onto his arms and bit his lip to stop the moan swelling up in his throat. He heard the cap of the lubricant being popped open and the sound of it being squeezed. Then there was a moment’s pause, and he could feel his open hole try to clench down on something not yet there.  
  
Prompto breathed out a laugh and patted Ignis’ arse. "Eager," he said, and the fondness soothed over what might have rankled.  
  
The next largest toy pushed in hard and unforgiving, and, not expecting it, Ignis clenched down. It hurt; Prompto didn’t slow, just carried on easing it in in tight little twists and rocks, and Ignis couldn’t stop the fragile sound he made, back arching as his hips tried to move away.  
  
Prompto’s hand rubbed Ignis’ lower back, but it felt more like he was holding him in place. "C’mon, you were doing so well," he said, and carried on pushing.  
  
It was a lie; he was doing, if anything, a little worse than average. "You’re doing so well," Prompto was saying and Ignis couldn’t tell if he were lying or if he truly believed it. Prompto’s fingers nudged up against his arse and the inexorable push in stopped. "Holy shit, Iggy," Prompto said with a loud, rushed exhale. "You’re amazing. Just lying here with this huge-ass dildo in your ass. You took it like a fucking pro. Hot damn. I bet you want more, right?"  
  
It wasn’t true, or at least not all of it, but he couldn’t exactly argue. Ignis didn’t say anything, just concentrated on breathing, and Prompto carried on fucking him until Ignis’ forehead was braced down on his arms and Prompto petting his back, easing the third-largest toy in, as thick as his wrist. He stopped pushing when Ignis clenched down unwillingly, and rocked it in deeper and deeper when he relaxed. "That’s it’ he murmured, under his breath, as if talking to himself as much as Ignis. "Almost in, just relax a bit more, you need to relax. Come on, know you can do it—’  
  
Ignis bit his lower lip and forced himself to breathe slowly, calm and deep. The sharp pain radiated, turned dull then sharp again as Prompto worked the toy in another inch. It sat heavy in his guts, and his stomach squeezed, cramping. He wanted to ask Prompto to stop, to give him more time, but he didn’t know how much time they had left and he didn’t want to ask.  
  
He needed to control his body better. He needed to stop it cramping and sweating, halt the tears being squeezed out of his tight shut eyes.  
  
Prompto pushed the toy in a little further, pulled it out then pushed it in again, which made lubricant trickle down Ignis’ thigh. His back was arched, hips upwards, trying to find a position that accommodated the solid length and girth pressing into him, hard and unyielding. He tried not to think of how he looked but couldn’t stop it entirely — like an eager slut, arse in the air, begging for it — and humiliation prickled across him like cat claws.  
  
"There you go, Iggy — knew you could do it — look at you, damn." The praise only made the shame that much worse, running cold and hot at the same time, but it wasn’t like he could say it. He felt so full. Unbearably full, stuffed to the brim and bulding with it. He groaned as Prompto let go of the toy, and even the brush of his fingers against it made Ignis squeeze down on it, hard, and his breath shuddered as his hips rocked and the blunt end of it inside him moved. He imagined it like a spoon, stirring the wet stew-pot of his organs, even though he knew the motion was negligible, that he was thinking it infinitely worse than it was, and that he would soon be taking much larger and longer than this.  
  
Prompto’s hands skimmed his thighs and back, stroking him. "I’m gonna leave this one in for a bit, okay?" he said, and phrased it like a question even though Ignis knew that neither of them had much say in the matter. He needed to be ready for when Noct and Gladio arrived.  
  
His eyes were still wet; he tried to will them dry, but failed to make any difference by the time Prompto came up around to his head and lifted his chin with just two fingers. He didn’t open his eyes. He couldn’t bear to see Prompto’s expression as he saw Ignis like this. The air on his face was cold compared to the humidity of pressing it to his arms, but Prompto’s mouth was hot, and Ignis lips fell open to them obediently. He moaned, soft, aching noises as Prompto drew him forwards, out of the protective curl he’d been in, forcing the toy to churn through his soft, wet organs as he straightened.  
  
"Come on, Iggy," Prompto said against his mouth, encouraging and ever-so gentle. "Come on, I know you can do it, Iggy, Igs. Just need to breathe through it."  
  
Prompto’s hands ran up and down his shoulders, along the line of his neck and up to cradle his skull. Ignis’ stomach cramped as Prompto tugged him to his feet, and then again, worse, when he was straightened. It was enough to buckle him back over, very almost enough to sent him to his knees. Prompto stood in front of him and tugged him back up until he was standing straight, and he pressed against Ignis body with the whole length of his own. His arms were wrapped around and over Ignis’ hips, and he held the toy in his fingertips.  
  
"Hey, look," he said, and let go with one hand so he could bring it to the back of Ignis’ head. "See, knew you could do it."  
  
Rocking his hips forced Ignis’ body to move with them, and Prompto dragged him in for a kiss. Ignis’ stomach pulled, guts tightened, cold and hot and churning, cramping. He’d broken out into a cold sweat; his fingers were clumsy as he pawed at Prompto’s loose t-shirt.  
  
He was light-headed, but Prompto held him up, rocking the toy in and out of him, short little thrusts at its deepest. He’d lost his erection but could feel Prompto’s against his thigh, hard and hot and insistent. Prompto’s mouth on his was dizzying.  
  
They broke apart, and Prompto was grinning, flushed, his lips pink and wet. He was unbearably beautiful, breathing hard, his eyes bright like a spotlights on Ignis; Ignis wanted to kneel at his feet.  
  
"Nice," Prompto said. "All right then, on the floor, ass up. Still got two more to go, then it’s wolf dick time."  
  
Wordlessly, Ignis folded down, sinking to his knees then falling forwards, resting his head on his forearms on the floor. Prompto had laid exercise mats down on the hard wood floor, and covered those with — Ignis hoped — waterproof covers and sheets on top. The sheets bunched up a little as he adjusted his position on them. His guts clenched as the movement shifted the toy inside him. Prompto touched his inside thigh with his foot, and Ignis spread his legs and lifted his hips a little higher.  
  
"Like damn, that’s a good sight," Prompto said, and knelt beside Ignis. He stroked his arse, rubbing his hands over Ignis’ hot skin. Even though it was an honest compliment, Ignis wished Prompto hadn’t said anything. He usually lived for praise, but not, ridiculously, on full moon nights. Gripping the toy Prompto pulled it out in one long motion; he blew on Ignis’ gaping hole and breathed out a laugh as Ignis flinched and moaned from the sensation. The toy went back in to half-way, then out again, then all the way, and Ignis gritted his teeth and rocked his hips into it, trying to find the easiest angle.  
  
The sound of the lubricant cap being popped open warned him of Prompto putting the toy down and picking up the next largest, but not of Prompto angling the tube to squeeze directly into his hole; the lubricant was cold, wet and slippery as it tricked down inside him. Ignis sobbed a gasp, jerking forwards, as Prompto laughed and tugged him back with his hands on Ignis’ hips.  
  
"I’m sorry! I’m really sorry, but you got to admit that was the best target, c’mon. And you know I can’t resist a nice target. Cor trained me well."  
  
The second largest toy nudged up against Ignis’ hole, broad and blunt and — he knew from experience — long. Longer than he could take, no matter how much time and effort Prompto spent with it every month, inching it in until Ignis sobbed and jerked and begged him to stop.  
  
Longer than Noct or Gladio, which was why Prompto would stop, eventually.  
  
Ignis shivered as the toy slipped into him, stretching him around its girth, filling him up with its fat girth. It lined up his insides with itself, forcing his guts to conform to its shape. He could feel it pressing against the muscles of his stomach from the inside when Prompto angled it down, forcing a bulge in the planes of his belly that he felt with a sickening lurch. He bit his lip again and tried to smother down the whimper as Prompto rocked it in and out, deeper, the inches of it piling in like bricks. Sweat dripped down his brow, stinging in his eyes. Sweat prickled on his arms, his shoulders and back, thighs and feet, icy cold. His head swam.  
  
He thought of the Noct from yesterday morning, rumpled and flushed from the sleep he’d barely woken from. How he’d yawned and dug back into the covers like a cat, and how when Ignis had reached down to rock his shoulder and wake him properly he’d grabbed Ignis hand instead. How he’d held it and tugged Ignis down and wriggled up against his body, tucking himself against it, breath hot and humid on Ignis’ throat. He thought of Noct’s body that lay soft and warm and curled up in the protection of Ignis’ arms.  
  
He thought of Noct the day before yesterday, and how hard he’d worked into the night on a speech he had to give that wasn’t even important in the way most of his speeches were — there would be no politicians in the audience, no photographers who weren’t crown employed, no one who wanted to pick apart his words for their own agenda. It had been for a charity, raising money for an animal shelter struggling for funds, and he’d chosen to give it because he wanted to, not because he had to.  
  
And Gladio, too — his rough affection, his push when Ignis pulled, the weight of him holding Ignis up when he sagged. The strength of his convictions. His intelligence and hidden bookishness and fierce intellect. That the most surefire way to cheer him up was to be happy around him, because he took strength and energy from knowing his friends and family were happy and protected.  
  
Prompto pulled out the second largest toy, and Ignis hissed and gasped as his body refused to allow entry to the largest — still not larger than Gladio, or either of his or Noct’s knots. Prompto patted him and pulled the toy out to let him relax a little. Ignis sagged as Prompto did so, but straightened again as he switching down to a smaller size and pushed that in him instead, pumping it slow and steady.  
  
Gladio, who was always there to listen when Ignis wanted to talk. Who respected Ignis like no one else did, not really. How earlier that week he’d sat at the kitchen table while Ignis had been making Noct’s dinner, and he’d spoken no more than one word to every aggravated hundred of Ignis’, yet he’d managed to lift what felt like the weight of all Insomnia from Ignis’ shoulders.  
  
How he’d never admit it, but the way Gladio’s arms curled around him and made him feel safe, like a child, protected and loved.  
  
Prompto moved back to the second largest, the longest, and Ignis couldn’t stop his whimper as he pushed it deeper than before. Pain splashed inside him like a spilt drink as his stomach cramped, hard enough he almost buckled.  
  
"Prompto," he gasped, and tried to crawl forwards, stopped by Prompto’s hand gripping his neck. "Too much. Prompto—’  
  
"C’mon, I know you did better than this last month." Prompto stopped pushing it in, but he wasn’t taking it out, either. "Just relax. Deep breaths."  
  
He wanted to tell Prompto to stop, take it out, to let him breathe, just for a moment — but what, then, would he do when face with Noct and Gladio? He couldn’t tell them to stop.  
  
Prompto’s fingers were still digging into his neck when he started to move the toy inside Ignis, rocking it in and out. "There we go," he said, soft and soothingly, only a little hoarse from the arousal clear in his voice. "That’s it, Iggy."  
  
The feel of the toy pull out of him in a long, tight slide of friction, the loss of the pain, ached. He shuddered a low moan into the sheets and desperately willed his legs to stay strong and not collapse.  
  
The largest toy was half-in, each tiny motion of it kicking out whimpers from Ignis’ throat, when beyond the roar in his ears he heard the front door slam.  
  
"Hey," Noct called, from the hallway, his voice loud and bright and terrible, "Prompto. Hey, Specs."  
  
"Noct! Gladio, hey, good day? Excited? Hungry like the wolves yet?" Prompto jumped to his feet, backing off immediately, leaving cold handprints on Ignis’ skin. Ignis stayed where he was, trembling, on the floor with the toy sticking from his well stretched hole. Above him, Gladio laughed.  
  
"Lookin’ good, Iggy," Gladio said, and Ignis felt Noct’s footsteps in the floorboards as he approached. Noct’s hands landed on him like brands and Ignis moaned to feel them run up and down his sides, his arse, his thighs and calves. Noct gripped the toy and rolled it back and forth under his palm, and Ignis rolled his hips to try match its movement, stop the way it churned back and forth inside him.  
  
If they were back that would mean a little less than an hour until moonrise, perhaps forty minutes.  
  
And then, only eight hours to moonset.  
  
Noct leant forwards from where he was now kneeling behind Ignis. He slotted his legs between Ignis’, pushing his hips up against the toy and thrusting forwards. The motion shoved Ignis forwards bodily, and Noct gripped his hips and pulled him back, forcing the toy deeper as it was squeezed between them.  
  
Ignis gasped, the muscles in his back jumping. "Noct," he said, the word falling from his mouth, Noct’s name the instinctual shape his lips moved to. "Noct—’  
  
Gladio’s hand under his chin was broad and powerful and tugged Ignis up, lifting him until his hands were forced to come down under him and prop him up, and then higher still and Ignis was grasping at Gladio to try keep his balance. Gladio leant in and kissed him, not deterred by the way Noct was forcing him to rock back and forth, back arching down to try and absorb some of the motion.  
  
"Hey," Noct said, harsh, rough, and aggressive. "Hey, Gladio, fuck off."  
  
Breaking the kiss, leaving Ignis panting, Gladio said: "What if I don’t want to?" His hand was still on Ignis’ throat. His voice was thick with insolence.  
  
"He’s mine," Noct snapped, and yanked Ignis backwards and to the side by his hips. Ignis fell, awkwardly, on his side, and the jolt through the toy made him cry out from the sudden burst of pain in his hips.  
  
His first instinct was to curl up, scrabble at the toy inside him to yank it out. His fingers slipped on the toy, wet with lubricant, and he couldn’t manage to pull it out. His second instinct was to roll away from Noct, whose body was pressed to his legs, and escape. He tamped down on that and did not move, other than in his shuddering attempts to remove the thing that was sending bright sunbursts of pain to roll around the cradle of his pelvis, through his guts, and up and down his spine.  
  
"Hey," Noct said, and his voice was soothing. His hands settled on Ignis’ waist and thigh, just lightly. "Shit, Specs, I’m sorry. Hold still."  
  
Ignis held still and let Noct move his hand away from the toy, replacing it with his own. He pressed his mouth to Ignis’ hips and gently eased the toy from him; Ignis whimpered but stayed still through the burn of friction, the cramping and sharp pain as he was stretched. He gagged dryly and Noct kissed the slick skin of his hip over and over.  
  
"You’re going great," he said. "Almost there."  
  
Ignis opened his eyes as it slipped out, leaving only an aching hollowness inside him. He let out a long, shuddering breath, and as Noct rolled him over onto his back he opened his eyes and caught sight of Prompto sitting back down on the armchair across the room, out of the way. He couldn’t see Gladio, and when Noct clambered up over his body to tilt his head up and kiss him, he closed his eyes.  
  
The kiss was possessive; Noct licked his mouth open, and it was all Ignis could do to keep up with the insistent rhythm. His belly twinged with pain as Noct lay down on top of him, clothes almost unbearably rough on his bare skin, hands on the back of his head, fingers pulling on his hair. His hips rocked against Ignis’ belly, whole body moving as he rolled his spine, slow and lazy. Ignis placed his hands on Noct’s shoulders, rubbing them up and down, too exhausted to move any more than that.  
  
Ignis’ lips were sore when Noct pulled back, just enough to redirect his kisses onto the side of Ignis’ mouth, then down the line of his jaw to his throat. He nipped and sucked bruises onto the skin over his adam’s apple as his hands forced Ignis’ head back and throat exposed.  
  
"Noct," Ignis moaned, clutching at Noct’s shoulders, and hoped the fear of sharp teeth did not reach his voice.  
  
Noct worked his way down Ignis’ body. He kissed his collarbones and licked the sweat from the dip between then. He pressed wet kisses to Ignis’ nipples, and sucked them, flicking the tip of his tongue over their sensitive flesh, hardened into nubs between his teeth. Ignis gasped and moaned, knowing that Noct preferred it when he didn’t control himself, as Noct held Ignis’ chest down with his hands, pulling back his head with Ignis’ nipple held in his teeth, tugging it up until it hurt.  
  
With Ignis bruised to his satisfaction, Noct kissed Ignis’ nipples each before moving down again, over his abs. He moved to one side to kiss Ignis’ hip, the soft inside skin of his thigh, and then took Ignis’ half-hard cock in his mouth, all at once.  
  
Ignis’ hips jerked up, hard, his thighs closing around Noct’s head, and Noct shoved him down and splayed out. Almost immediately, Ignis was hard, filling Noct’s hot, wet mouth, nudging up against the entrance to his throat. His hands grasped at Noct’s hair as Noct sucked, cheeks hollowing, throat opening up around the tip of Ignis’ cock head.  
  
At some point Ignis’ eyes had closed; they flew open as hands gripped his throat and chin, tilting his head back. Gladio was kneeling behind him, and he pushed his hips forwards and his erection into Ignis’ slack mouth.  
  
Noct made a noise, a hard vibration around Ignis’ cock. He was snarling as he lifted his head, Ignis’ cock bumping his lips and nose before falling, hard and aching, onto his belly.  
  
"He’s mine, Gladio. Wait your turn."  
  
"Fuck you, Noct," Gladio said, so amiably and laughingly that he couldn’t have been more vulgar.  
  
"Get off," Noct snarled, yanking Ignis’ hips down and only succeeding in making his neck arch as Gladio didn’t release his hold on Ignis’ head. Ignis opened his mouth to gasp, or protest, but Gladio’s cock shoved up into his throat and he couldn’t do anything but make sloppy, gagging sounds around it.  
  
Noct clambered up over Ignis’ body, knees either side of him, hands squashing him down before reaching out to shove at Gladio’s chest. Gladio braced himself and barely moved.  
  
"Get the fuck off," Noct snarled. "He’s mine — he’s mine and you only get him when I say you can."  
  
"Says who? Not you when you can’t even get me off him," Gladio said, voice rich with gloating. He thrust deep and slow down Ignis’ throat, distending his neck.  
  
Ignis put his hands up onto Gladio’s thighs, shoving uselessly against him. His legs curled up behind Noct, who was kneeling over his chest.  
  
"Get off now, or—’  
  
"Or what? You’ll shove me like a little pussy again?"  
  
Noct launched himself at Gladio, and Gladio’s cock slipped from Ignis’ mouth. Before Ignis could do anything Noct fell hard over him, knocked back by Gladio to roll over Ignis’ body and to one side. Ignis grabbed for Noct; Gladio hooked his hands under Ignis’ armpits and dragged him back and up.  
  
Gladio, stop, Ignis meant to snap, but the sound got caught in his throat, and all that came out as he was hauled up, his back to Gladio’s front, was a sharp gasp. His back arched as Gladio heaved them both to their feet, his cock sliding, hot and hard, against the small of Ignis’ back.  
  
He could tell Gladio to let him go. If he said it firmly then Gladio would probably stop playing around and put him down.  
  
He probably would. He might not. He didn’t always — usually, almost always, but not always. It was that possibility that froze Ignis’ voice. If he said nothing at all then Gladio could not ignore or disobey him. If he told Gladio to stop, and he didn’t—  
  
"Get the fuck off him," Noct said even as he picked himself up off the floor and launched himself back at Gladio and Ignis. His voice had deepened, roughened. The moon was going to rise soon. If Noct and Gladio were still bickering when they changed then there was a good chance the hostility would colour the mood of the entire night.  
  
Ignis tried to grasp Noct as he grappled with Gladio, and Gladio swung Ignis out in front of him as a living shield. Noct grabbed his shoulder, digging his thumbs into the flesh over his shoulder blades, and tried to yank him from Gladio. Gladio held Ignis tighter and didn’t let Noct pull him away.  
  
For a moment Ignis caught sight of Prompto’s wide, frightened eyes, Prompto half-risen from where he’d been sitting in the corner of the room.  
  
"Gladio!" Ignis’ voice cut through Noct’s wordless snarling and Gladio’s mocking laughter. He grabbed hold of Gladio’s lower arm that was braced over his stomach. "Put me down. Noct is your prince and you will obey him."  
  
Both Gladio and Noct stilled, and Ignis was left between them, panting for breath. The moment teetered on a knife-edge. "Gladio," he said, looking at Noct’s face and finding him still staring at Gladio, upper lip raised. "You will have your turn later. Remember that your place is below Noct."  
  
Gladio’s grip on him loosened and Ignis tipped forwards, catching himself just before he fell right into Noct. "Below him? Ha," Gladio said. "Pretty sure that’s your job, Iggy."  
  
There ought to be a pun or wordplay in there, something light to further soothe ruffled feathers and clear the mood, but for the life of him he couldn’t think of anything. Instead he put his hands on Noct’s shoulders, pushing him back gently to the sofa. Noct let himself be pushed, flopping back down and pulling Ignis with him, and Ignis sprawled in his lap, careful not to place his or Noct’s knees anywhere delicate.  
  
Noct’s hands on the back of Ignis’ head and neck dragged him in, and the kiss was hard, too much tongue and teeth. When Noct allowed him to pull back Ignis licked his lips tentatively, wondering if they’d bruise, and didn’t fight back when Noct shoved him down to lie on his back on the sofa and kissed him again.  
  
Noct knelt above him and fisted his hand in Ignis' hair, keeping him still while they kissed. His other hand ran over Ignis' shoulder, scraping his nails down Ignis' chest and stomach. Ignis pushed up into him, hands on Noct's hips and nudging his fingers beneath the band of his trousers. Noct's body covered him and Ignis could feel the burn of his own body overheating beneath him. Noct's clothes scratched at him and pressed into his skin as Noct lay on his body.  
  
He couldn't see Gladio. He didn't want to be caught looking for him, so he closed his eyes and focused on kissing, rolling his hips up into Noct. He hoped Gladio wasn't going to interrupt; it seemed unlikely, given how he'd backed off earlier, but Gladio wasn't always predictable. Prompto could distract him, if he wanted to, which he should not. Worse, Gladio could decide to be distracted by Prompto.  
  
Prompto was new in this dynamic, having only entered in once he'd reached majority and it wouldn't cause a scandal. He still only interacted with Ignis and not with Noct and Gladio, even when they weren’t wolves, because he was not trained for it, and Ignis wasn't sure Prompto wanted to even if he were. Ignis wanted him with them, because how could they be complete without Prompto? But perhaps it was best it stayed like this, where Prompto watched but didn't touch. He stayed to play with Ignis and to hold on to potions for the times they were needed, when Noct and Gladio forgot their strength. Prompto didn’t offered his body to be used like Ignis let his be used, though, and they respected that.  
  
Ignis hoped desperately they would continue respecting it. When Gladio and Noct were like this, before turning, high spirited and fierce, there was no guarantee that they wouldn't turn on Prompto regardless of his wishes for or against it. It hadn't happened yet, hadn't threatened to happen, and Ignis liked to think it never would. That Gladio and Noct were better than that. But when they were wolves, undomesticated, he couldn't be sure. How could he guarantee Prompto's safety when Prompto was in the same room as them, when Ignis could only distract one of them at a time? He couldn't see what Gladio was doing now, so how could he know he wasn't looking at Prompto? That he wasn't making a move towards him? Prompto needed to be included to be happy, and Ignis needed him to be happy, but he needed him safe as well.  
  
It was Ignis' job, as the only human who was experienced with Noct and Gladio as wolves, to protect him. If Prompto were hurt or even frightened, it'd be his fault. And, he supposed, if Prompto were ever to want to join in in a role like Ignis', then it would be Ignis' job to teach him. Train him.  
  
It bothered him to think of Prompto like that, so he didn't. He pushed Noct's head down to his neck and shoulders and took the opportunity while Noct was biting at his skin with sharp, bruising nips, to glance over.  
  
Looking at Gladio was dangerous in that it would feed Noct's territorial anger and encourage Gladio to make a move to further rile Noct up. Looking at Prompto was dangerous in that it would remind Noct and Gladio of Prompto's presence in the room, potentially as another toy to play with. It wasn’t that Noct and Gladio were dangers to Prompto as humans, of course they weren’t, but if they were thinking of him when they transformed, then perhaps—  
  
Ignis looked at Gladio, not catching his eye but glancing as quickly as possible to judge what he was doing and if he needed to be distracted. Gladio was sitting back on the floor, facing Noct and Ignis; Ignis didn't see where his eyes were directed, but he did see how he was naked, legs spread, stroking his erection. Prompto was behind him and didn’t look particularly alarmed.  
  
"Hey," Noct said, bright grey-blue eyes burning into Ignis; Ignis looked back up to him, a frisson of guilt and fear of having been caught running through him, and put his hand on the back of Noct’s head to stop him from turning to Gladio.  
  
"Clothes," Ignis said, and with his other hand tugged more persistently at Noct’s trousers. Noct huffed a laugh and sat up, pulling off his shirt, and relief flowed through Ignis like rain.  
  
Noct was breathing hard into Ignis’ throat as he let Ignis tug his trousers and underwear down. He shimmied his hips and kicked to discard them onto the floor, though he seemed more focused on licking and tasting Ignis’ skin, and dragging his teeth across his pulse point. When his clothes were all off he dug his knees down on either side of Ignis’ hips; his hard cock hung between his legs, tip brushing over Ignis’ lower belly. He turned his head perpendicular to Ignis’ and closed his teeth over Ignis’ throat, squeezing down on his windpipe. Pain and an awful, light-headed sickness burst out from Noct’s teeth; Ignis made a soft, strangled noise, arching up into him, hands patting at his back. "Noct," he managed, tamping down on the panic fluttering to life inside him.  
  
Noct bit down hard for a second — the pain and panic burst up, barely controllable — then released Ignis’ throat. He held Ignis down by the shoulders and licked his throat with the flat of his tongue, and Ignis gasped and scrubbed away at the embarrassing tears that had formed in his eyes. His throat ached, dull pain still making him want to squirm out from under Noct, cover up his neck and simply breathe. He was good at not squirming away; he stayed where he was and let Noct do what he wanted.  
  
He didn’t resent Prompto for only staying by the sidelines and not joining in, nor did he feel any particular pride that Prompto had decided — for now — that he didn’t think he could withstand what Ignis was put through. Or perhaps Ignis did. Perhaps he resented that Prompto had been given the choice of whether or not to join in, and the exact level of his participation. Perhaps he truly liked that his job was one that no others could fulfil, or even if they could — there were a plethora of sex workers who had trained for the attentions of wolves — then Noct and Gladio didn’t want them, they wanted him. Only Ignis. They didn’t even want Prompto like they wanted him.  
  
He didn’t know. He couldn’t tell.  
  
Across the room, tucked out of harm’s way in Prompto’s pocket, Ignis’ phone beeped. It was five minutes til moonrise.  
  
"Can’t wait," Noct said, still with his mouth pressed against Ignis’ throat. "Wanna fuck you." His hips thrust forwards, cock sliding against Ignis’ stomach.  
  
"On the floor," Ignis said, and tried to push Noct up and off.  
  
"Now," Noct said, and across the room Gladio laughed. Ignoring him, Noct grabbed Ignis' leg behind the knee and hoisted it up; helpless against him, Ignis let him. He bent Ignis almost in two, shoving his knee up to his chest, and Ignis hooked his other leg around Noct’s back, heel on Noct’s shoulder.  
  
Even after having been stretched by the toys Ignis had tightened back up again; it was inevitable, he knew, not least because of the manhandling. Noct still slid into him with ease, the precome on his cock and lubricant still in Ignis smoothing the harsh shove in, all the way on the first thrust. Ignis groaned, less for the feeling of fullness or stretch and more because his body was reacting to Noct’s body pressed up against him, skin on skin, heat and sweat and harsh panting. His own cock was slowly swelling with arousal, pleasant heat prickling in his belly.  
  
Noct didn’t waste any time before withdrawing and thrusting back in, long strokes that pulled out almost entirely, the head of his cock just nudging up inside the rim of Ignis’ hole before pushing back in to the hilt.  
  
Hands on Noct’s hips, Ignis tugged at him in time with his thrusts, encouraging. He opened his mouth to breathe, rocking his hips up into Noct’s body, wanting and loving and dreading the loss of Noct’s human body, his hands and cock and the breathy moans he was making.  
  
There were only a few minutes before moonrise. Noct would be shifting imminently, and that meant they ought to separate and move to the floor. Move into position. He couldn't bear to stop Noct, though, in the middle of sex. The slip and slide of his cock inside Ignis. The way he was clutching at Ignis' shoulders, head down, pressing his mouth to Ignis' skin wherever he could reach it. Chasing his pleasure in Ignis' body, splayed out and welcoming beneath him. Ignis’ own pleasure.  
  
Beside them, Gladio groaned, low and rough. Ignis turned to glance at him instinctively, because it sounded so much like pain — and perhaps it was. Neither he nor Noct remembered their shifts by the time they woke as humans.  
  
Noct, too, tensed up, still buried inside Ignis. His elbows were locked, and his back was trembling with the strain. "Noct," Ignis said, trying to catch his breath. "Noct, you need to pull out."  
  
It was too late for Noct to hear him. Ignis touched his face, fingers tapping against his cheek, but Noct just squeezed his eyes shut tighter and didn't respond. Fear pricked in Ignis, waking up, blowing away the soft blanket of pleasure. He patted Noct's face harder, getting his knees in under Noct's hips, but Noct only bent lower and pressed in tighter.  
  
Prompto appeared by his side, suddenly, as if warping. "Iggy? You need him off you?"  
  
Had he sounded more panicky than he'd thought, for Prompto to step in? "It's fine," Ignis said, and tried to offer up a smile at Prompto, whose brow was furrowed in concern. He saw that Prompto had his trousers on still — a precaution they had decided on, a thin layer of defence should Noct or Gladio take an interest in him — but the fly was open, and Prompto's erection stood, hard and heavy, out from between his legs. Ignis forced his eyes away and back up to Prompto's face. "It's a little uncomfortable, but we'll be fine. Thank you."  
  
"Sure?"  
  
"Yes. Don't worry. Prompto, get back now; he's about to shift."  
  
He ought to have been more wordy, more gentle and less abrupt. Just because Prompto wasn’t included in this part didn’t mean that Ignis ought to be dismissive of him. His heart was racing, though, and the sounds Noct was making, grumbling groans, the little shifts and muscles twitching in his stiff body, were hard to ignore. "Prompto, careful — Gladio—"  
  
Noct started to shift. Ignis was only distantly aware of Prompto retreating as he took a hold of Noct's hands, gripping the tops of them as best he could, closing his eyes, and holding on.


	2. Chapter 2

There were various speculations about the origins and mechanics of werewolves, culturally and scientifically. There were ties to daemons, comparisons to caterpillars and butterflies, the tides, and human femininity. Ignis liked to think of them as like gods, because of the cold, sacred magic that wrapped around them, tugging their human forms into layers and layers of wolf.  
  
The wolf form was larger by far than the human; there was no conversation of mass. They were giant, powerful, divine beings. They were hungry and feral. Ignis felt the residual magic wash over him like a bucket of water, both icy and boiling at once. Noct's hands on his shoulders grew heavier and heavier, pressing him down into the cushions, and clenched and turned into paws. They dug into him, claws sharp, pads rough and hard. Noct's legs became long and bent and covered with thick fur.  
  
Ignis had shifted his hips, trying to bend his back and pull away from Noct's cock. He’d managed to almost pull out when Noct's hips shoved closer to him, keeping himself inside Ignis as he crouching over him, and his cock grew into wolf form with the rest of him.  
  
There had never been the chance to measure Noct or Gladio — either in more general terms in bodily length or weight, though half of Insomnia it seemed were actively asking and speculating, or for more personal curiosity in the length and girth of their cocks. They were larger like a coeurl was larger than a housecat, it seemed; the wolf size of Noct appeared all at once rather than growing in increments, and Ignis couldn't stifle his cry as he was stretched wide and open all at once, and even if only the tip then still as deep as Noct had ever been as human. He did not think he tore, and he had Prompto and the evening's preparation to thank for that, but it hurt like a blow from the blunt end of a polearm into his guts, the sort that would end the spar and require an examination for ruptured organs. Reflexively, without conscious thought, he got his feet under Noct's giant barrel chest and shoved as hard as he could.  
  
Noct moved off him and the sofa, snarling as he got his feet underneath him and onto the floor. Ignis curled onto his side, biting his lips to stop the whimpers attempting to ride out on the whistling air from his lungs. Behind Noct came an answering snarl, and Ignis reached out with one hand to grasp at Noct. He found a handful of fur, thick and dense, and grabbed at it. Noct and Gladio fighting this early on would be problematic, would make the whole night tense and needlessly violent.  
  
The force of Noct's quietened snarl still vibrated up Ignis' arm like the thrum of heavy machinery. "Noct," Ignis said, rasping it, and uncurled. The motion made him flinch as pain shot up his spine, ricocheting around the bones of his pelvis, but he managed to roll onto the floor by Noct's feet, face-down on his hands and knees. "I'm here. Noct."  
  
Noct's nose pressed down on his shoulders, his back, between his legs. It was cold and wet, and his breath hot and wet. He pawed at Ignis, shoving at him, and Ignis got into position — arse up, knees splayed and head on his arms, braced against the floor as best as possible. His body protested, but Ignis stayed where he was and took a deep breath, opening up his breathing as Noct lined himself up and pushed back in. His front paws hooked around Ignis' waist, claws scoring lines through his skin as he scrabbled a bit for a grip. His cock, tapered at the very tip, slid in an inch then reached the flat surface of the head. Noct shoved, and his cock slid out of Ignis, slipping instead up and over his back.  
  
The rumble of Noct's snarl was like a subway train passing. He shifted, and Ignis reached back to grasp his cock at the base, thick enough his fingers only just touched around the girth of it. He guided it to his hole and Noct, standing over him patiently, let him.  
  
Residual fear and tension had tightened Ignis back up again, and he had to breathe out, relax himself, to even allow the tip back in. Noct nosed at his neck, grumbling softly in his chest, and thrust into Ignis' hand in small, tight little rolls of his hips. Ignis hushed him, bit back a moan, and with the next little thrust Noct breached him and pushed himself in.  
  
He only managed a couple of inches before the tight squeeze of Ignis' hole around his cock stopped him. His grumble turned impatient as he pulled out and thrust back in again, and Ignis whimpered before he could stop himself, pathetic even to his own ears. The armiger was slippery when all he could feel was the press of something hot and massive into him, splitting him open, and the rumbling breath coming from Noct's giant wolf body. He managed to grab the lubricant and squeeze a little out onto his shaking palm; reaching back, he bumped into Noct's foreleg where it was pressed into his waist and held him in position.  
  
Noct's cock was throbbing when he touched it. Its girth pressing into him made him feel light-headed, to know himself stretched around it, that it was pushed deep into him and would push deeper still. He wrapped his hand, dripping with lubricant, around Noct's cock, and Noct growled as he smoothed his palm up and down its length, as far as he could reach. He traced around his own hole with a fingertip, stretched far enough he didn't think he could slide even a fingernail in, and tried not to shiver at the cold sensation. Noct started to thrust, dragging his cock out and shoving it in with brute force more than anything else, and he withdrew his hand to back by his head, pressing his forehead hard against his arm.  
  
The need to breathe, to relax, won over the urge to stay quiet. Noct's rocking thrusts, just the first several inches of his cock, made Ignis whimper into the floor. "Noct," he tried to say, just to form words instead of senseless, animal noises, and punctuated the apex of Noct's thrusting and his sobbing exhales with shaky, awful moans and whines.  
  
"Noct," he said, "Noct, Noct, Noct—"  
  
With each thrust Noct was pushing deeper, shoving his cock into the wet heat of Ignis' guts. It hurt, not just the burning stretch but the pummel of something hard hitting inside of him, scraping up into his internal organs, like being kicked repeatedly, over and over. It made his head spin, his lungs hitch and stomach squeeze, curling with discomfort, threatening to buck and throw up.  
  
He couldn’t tell if the beginning of the night was worse, when his body wasn’t yet habituated to the size and shape of wolf, or later, when he was habituated but exhausted and in pain from it.  
  
"Noct," Ignis gasped, and then sobbed instead of managing to say Noct's name. He couldn't tell how many inches of Noct were inside of him, despite the countless times Noct had been buried fully inside him, his knot swollen and locking them together. He had no concept of how much more of Noct was left, how much more to go. What he did know was that no matter how he felt like it had to be no more — that he couldn't take any more — that any much more would tear him apart like wrapping paper — he was inevitably wrong.  
  
Noct pushed, and pushed a little further. Ignis could feel him bump up against the inside of his guts, pushing a visible bulge in his stomach. Ignis pressed his forehead down into his arms harder, trying to feel anything but the way his head was spinning and a cold sweat breaking out over his overheating body, and the inexorable stretch and shove of Noct pumping into him, almost but never quite too large to fit.  
  
His breath was rasping in his throat, scraping it raw. Noct thrust into him, shallow and fast, almost frantic, panting wetly. How long had it been since they'd shifted? Ignis tried to think, then shied away from the question. Trying to calculate how long and — more importantly — how much longer only ever ended badly. Counting seconds only made the seconds last longer. And while he knew he would inevitably turn to counting the time, to start so early would be a mistake.  
  
Noct and Gladio each took perhaps thirty minutes fucking him, then thirty minutes knotted to him, pumping him full of come. They would take him in turns, and the hour spent waiting while the other fucked Ignis was mostly enough to pass their refractory period, though they’d take breaks as well. They would be able to fuck him perhaps three times each over the course of the eight hours. To start wondering when it would be over before the first half-hour of the first fuck was inviting misery.  
  
He could tell when Noct was close to bottoming out when he could feel the brush of fur against his thighs. He could not feel it. He already felt too full, like Noct was bludgeoning his insides until they'd all split open and leak out. There wasn't anything he could do except to breathe through it, open himself up to Noct and the scalding pain of his wolf-cock forcing itself inside him. And then open himself to Gladio, and then Noct again, and Gladio again—  
  
The whimper that tore itself loose from his throat sounded, to his ears, half-drowned out by his roaring pulse and rasping breath, more animal than the grunting pants of Noct's wolf above him. Then the tell-tale brush of fur came, like steel wool on the sensitive, sweat-soaked skin of his thighs, and Ignis almost sobbed with relief. Still, there were inches more, and his knot, but almost. He was almost in fully.  
  
Noct seemed to sense the same; he stopped thrusting, panting hard, and dropped his front legs to stand over Ignis. His body blocked out the light before he reared back up again, squeezing Ignis' waist, digging his claws into his back and hips to find purchase to drag Ignis back and up and impale him further.  
  
He sunk in the last couple of inches without thrusting in and out, and then he paused as he couldn't push in any further. Ignis wasn't sure why — whether it was for his sake, and Noct could tell that he needed a moment to adjust, or whether more simply that Noct was waiting because the pressure on his cock was uncomfortable and he wanted it to lessen. Whichever it was, Ignis sobbed with simple relief from the moment's break. His whole body was seized up, and he couldn’t move.  
  
Even though the pain would be almost unbearable, he hoped Noct would knot him, because then at least it would mark it as half over. This round would be half over. Instead Noct adjusted his grip on Ignis’ waist and pulled out in an agonisingly long, slow movement, reaching the tip of his cock inside the rim of Ignis’ hole. Then he pushed back in.  
  
Distantly, Ignis heard Prompto moan in appreciation. It seemed a qualitatively different sound than his own moans, ragged and sobbing, coloured with pain. The feel of Noct push back into him was like being sliced open in one long cut, from groin to the base of his ribs. Then Noct began to thrust, short, hard, and Ignis tried to make his body relax into it and forget the time passing. It would be over when it was over. When Noct was done with him, and Gladio was done with him, and the eight hours until moonset were over. He just had to wait until then. Lie back and hand over his body for their use, just for one night. It was not an unfair request of them.  
  
Noct's cock pumped in and out of him. He lost track of it, feeling the time it hit the deepest part of each thrust, the widest part. It felt like it was sanding him down, grinding away at him and scraping parts off until he was thin, fragile, and ready to shatter. Like he were a thin china bowl being rolled around on marble tiles, played with, and if he hit the wrong angle he'd break apart irreversibly.  
  
Noct and Gladio would not break him, he knew. It felt so close to it, as Noct snarled and panted and pressed the blunt tip of his huge muzzle into the back of Ignis' head, just above where his spine met skull. But Ignis also trusted them. He knew they wouldn't break him. Even as wolves.  
  
Despite the extra padding on the floor to save him from the hardwood, Ignis' knees and hips began to ache. It seemed absurd that such a small pain could even be noticeable over the top of the consuming burn and bludgeon of Noct's cock, the sharp scratching and bruising of his paws, but it was. It seeped up into the mess of pain inside his hips and belly and settled there, like insects crawling into an already infested log.  
  
He just needed to breathe through it. Keep his knees under him. It was really not such a big thing when all he was required to do was to stay still.  
  
Noct tensed up, and Ignis' eyes snapped open at the same time as he heard Noct growl, irritated and possessive. Grasping at Noct's foreleg, Ignis was half turning his head when Noct's jaws came down and clamped over his neck.  
  
Heat and saliva and teeth gripped him from the slope of his shoulders to the soft skin at the back of his ears. The reverberation of Noct's growl made Ignis' whole skull vibrate with it. It drowned out everything, even his own thoughts, and when Noct snarled and dragged him a small step to the left, away from the centre of the room — away from Gladio — Ignis cried out without meaning to.  
  
Noct squeezed a little tighter with his teeth and yanked Ignis again. He let go, dropping Ignis to the floor where he gasped for breath and pressed his hands over his head and neck, and listened to Noct snap and snarl. When he managed to look he saw that Gladio had crawled on his belly close to them, and was snarling and snapping back at Noct.  
  
He turned back to press his face to the floor, the soft fabric of the blankets, and think of how sweet Noct was, how earnest. The way he grumbled and rolled his eyes but fought tooth and nail for the things he thought were right. How gentle he’d be in the sleepy morning after, when the fog of wolf-memory and the potions’ healing magic wiped away all traces of the night’s violence.  
  
He thought of the rough kindness of Gladio, and how he took what was assumed of him, the crushing weight of expectation and being born into a role he never asked for, and used it to drive himself. His passion, the way he gave and gave — his time and energy, his body, his whole life — in order to build up others. How much Ignis respected him for being strong and steadfast, burning bright with life and kindness.  
  
Something trickled down Ignis' neck, warm on his cold, damp skin. It felt too thick to be blood. It was probably saliva, dripped from Noct's teeth or tongue. All Ignis could smell was the pungent animal scent of him. He couldn't smell blood. It very probably wasn't blood.  
  
Gladio backed off, or at least Ignis assumed he did, because Noct stopped snarling and went back to simply grumbling, low, like a granite pestle and mortar. He gripped Ignis' neck again in his teeth to readjust him, nipping the skin rather than taking his whole neck into his mouth, and that did tear the skin and make Ignis bleed. It tricked down into his hairline and behind his ears, a sharp stinging across the nape of his neck and down his spine.  
  
The broad of Noct's tongue pressed down on the small wound, which made the stinging worse, but at least with a potion infection wasn't something they needed to worry about. Ignis let Noct lick him and didn't try to twist away, and eventually Noct started to fuck him again. After just a few minutes of getting back into the rhythm he was faster, sloppier with his thrusts, and Ignis knew he was about to come, which meant he was about to knot him.  
  
Noct whined through his orgasm. He slowed his thrusts, rocking, his belly and the curves of his stifle knocking into Ignis as he impaled him fully, cock pushing Ignis' organs out of its way as it settled in his guts. The knot swelled and caught, and Noct's gentle thrusts shoved at Ignis' stretched hole until Ignis was choking simply from the pain of it, clutching at Noct's foreleg with clumsy fingers. His vision, when he opened his eyes, was blotchy. All he could hear was a roaring sound, white noise, and all he could feel was pain and swollen numbness. He felt like he'd split open. Every slightest movement sent lightning jolts of pain through him.  
  
His knees slid from under him, and when Noct pushed down on him he collapsed on the floor. Noct fell with him, kept close by the knot, then lay on top of him, a dead-weight. Propping himself up on his front paws that stretched out beyond Ignis' head, Noct's hind legs sprawled out either side of him. Ignis' head lay under Noct’s chest, closed in, a rabbit crushed under the broad paw of a coeurl.  
  
Gradually, Noct's heartbeat thumping above Ignis' head slowed down into a more peaceful rhythm. Ignis twisted the sheets in his hands and tried to focus on his own heart rate, but it stayed stubbornly high. His lungs refused to do anything but scour his throat with harsh little pants, his chest barely able to rise with Noct's weight on top of him. Noct's fur felt like razor-wire on his skin. When Noct moved, shifting restlessly, nausea curled through Ignis' stomach and throat.  
  
He couldn't feel it over the burn, the slicing agony of being stuffed too full, but he knew Noct was pumping him full of come. His knot pulsed gently, and Ignis could feel that inside of him, pressed tight against his inner walls. It held Noct's come inside him, plugging him up, but when it shrank and withdrew the come would dribble out.  
  
The thought made him feel sick, deep down in his guts, settling into his bones. He wanted to retch with it. He wouldn't, of course; if nothing else it would create a mess that he'd have to clean up before Noct and Gladio woke, and swear Prompto into secrecy over. Gladio, he thought grimly, would probably do something like try to eat it or roll in it.  
  
The thought offered a small bubble of warmth and humour, fondness and love. Ignis breathed out a small sigh of laughter, and when Noct shifted to nose at his hair and the side of his face to investigate, Ignis reached forwards to grasp his forelimb and dig his fingers into the short fur there.  
  
Eventually, as it had to, Noct’s knot went down and Noct wriggled enough that it slid out of Ignis’ stretched, abused hole. Ignis just breathed and lay there as Noct got up, clambering onto all fours and backing off down Ignis’ body, licking at his back, his flanks and arse and thighs. His tongue pressed against, then into his hole, and Ignis whimpered at the small, sharp pain of Noct’s tongue pushing at his swollen rim. He wondered if he were bleeding; Noct didn’t often lick him otherwise, at least like this. But perhaps he was trying to encourage Ignis to clench down and stop the dribble of Noct’s come from out of him.  
  
A short growl to one side, not threatening but impatient, reminded them both of them of Gladio’s presence. Noct stepped back without making a sound, and Ignis pushed himself back up onto his knees. His legs trembled hard for a moment, threatening to collapse back down, but he braced them, forcing them to stay. Arching his back down he took the lubricant back out of the armiger, squeezed a generous amount onto his fingertips, and pressed them into his hole. The shock of cold was first a relief then an agony as he applied more and his belly cramped; Gladio’s nose shoved his hand away, and Ignis moved back to bracing himself on his arms as he presented himself to Gladio.  
  
Gladio was, in wolf as in human, larger than Noct. He crouched to mount Ignis, heaving him up with his forelegs tucked under Ignis’ stomach. The strength of him lifted Ignis off his knees, and he scrambled to get his feet beneath him to push back with as Gladio’s long, thick cock thrust into him.  
  
It went only half-way, or thereabouts. Ignis’ body clenched down on it and stopped it, and Gladio rumbled in frustration as his hips jerked and he tried to force himself in further.  
  
"Gladio, stop," Ignis found himself saying without meaning to. "Slower. Please — slower—"  
  
Gladio couldn’t understand him, and even if he did it wasn’t in the nature of wolves to obey orders, so really, he was only distressing himself and Prompto with his begging. He still couldn’t quite stop himself as Gladio ground in every extra inch, barely withdrawing before shoving in deeper.  
  
"A moment, I just need a moment." He pulled at the sheets, just as uselessly as his begging, because he didn’t think he could reach Gladio to tug at him and his long, dark brown fur. "Please—"  
  
He’d been taken by Gladio before, many times. Each time seemed impossible until it was actually achieved. It felt impossible now, even though he knew it wasn’t, provably so after the ten or so minutes it took Gladio to be fully inside him.  
  
Gladio’s cock pressed into him like a sledgehammer moving in tiny back and forth swings, squaring up for the blow that would crush him. Gladio’s chest rumbled like thunder, a low and constant vibration that made Ignis’ bones ache. He wondered, if not for Gladio’s growling and his own whimpering, whether he’d be able to hear Prompto on the other side of the room, masturbating to the sight of Ignis being impaled. Whether Noct could hear him and whether Noct cared, or if he was too focused on Ignis to bother with anything or anyone else.  
  
The thought made Ignis turn his head and look, just a quick glance to check. Prompto was sitting back on the armchair, legs spread and face flushed as he stroked himself in time with Gladio’s short, erratic thrusts. Noct was ignoring him in favour of sitting and watching Ignis. When he saw Ignis look at him he opened his mouth, tongue lolling out between his long, white canines.  
  
Ignis closed his eyes, largely because having them open seemed like too much effort, and also because the room was spinning and that made him feel queasy. He seemed to have tightened up, or at least was not loosening as required, because Gladio’s thrusts were getting hard and aggressive and he was still not bottomed out, though he’d been fucking Ignis for a while now. The unexpected jostle as Gladio adjusted his grip, holding Ignis on the balls of his feet with his iron strength, only made Ignis clench down harder. Gladio snarled. His claws scraped up and down Ignis’ belly as his forelegs wrapped around him tighter.  
  
It was a good thing he’d had time to apply the lubricant, Ignis thought distantly, as Gladio stopped withdrawing and simply started to shove and shove, burying himself in Ignis’ body bit by agonising bit.  
  
Ignis opened his mouth to beg some more, but all that came out were thin little gasps and a thready scream when Gladio shoved particularly hard. His arms were boneless. He could barely gather the strength to grasp the sheets, and his fingers simply clawed into the material, trembling. Gladio pounded into him and it felt like he were dying each time. He wasn’t; he’d never needed phoenix down. It felt like it. Like his internal organs were being pulverised, and his hips cracked down the middle, and his spine snapped.  
  
Gladio paused, and Ignis realised fuzzily that he’d bottomed out. He hadn’t been able to notice Gladio’s fur on his skin like he had with Noct. His whole lower half felt oddly numb, lacking sensation. Now that he was paying attention he could feel the prickle of fur on him, the weight of Gladio’s belly to his back, the hard press of paws under him, holding him in place while Gladio fucked him, withdrawing to thrust back in again. He seemed impatient, foregoing long strokes for short ones, keeping the majority of his cock inside Ignis and only pumping in and out the last few, deepest inches.  
  
Without his knees to brace on, and his feet slipping out from under him, Ignis’ body lay limp in Gladio’s grip. Only his forearms buried into the blankets, and his spine that couldn’t bend any further than it was, meant that Gladio could keep his balance and stay standing on his hind limbs.  
  
Usually deep, shallow thrusts like this meant being close to orgasm and knotting. Gladio’s cock plunged into him, bumping up into his belly, hitting and bruising his guts, and didn’t seem particularly close to being finished. Ignis tried to count the thrusts, visualising them in ancient Solheimian numerals. He tried to focus on anything but the beat of pain inside him, the crawling certainty that his stomach was bulging out with each thrust. Could Prompto see it? Was that part of why he masturbated to this?  
  
_One-two-three-four—_ he lost count, unable to remember in time the shape of the numeral. Did Prompto think of him like this when he masturbated at home? Limp and slick with sweat and blood, stretched obscenely wide to accommodate the length and girth of a wolf cock?  
  
Did Noct and Gladio, even though they had no true memories of full moon nights? Was the instinct of their wolf desire to mate — to fuck — enough to drive their human desires? Or was it that their human desire informed their wolves’ actions?  
  
It was hard to think with Gladio fucking him, rocking his whole body with each hard thrust. Keeping back the whines and pathetic little cries was too hard, not even an hour into the night. Ignis opened his mouth and let them out over his lolling tongue and aching, raw throat.  
  
When Gladio finally knotted him, Ignis’ body twisted of its own accord, struggling and squirming weakly in Gladio’s grip. It didn’t break Gladio’s hold on him, but it did overbalance him. He let go of Ignis with one paw in order to balance on the other, and he snarled and grabbed Ignis’ neck and shoulder in his teeth, tucking his head down under his chest to reach. It didn’t do much to hold Ignis up, except that the press of his fangs into Ignis’ throat finally brought life back to his limp body, and he got his hands and feet under him to hold himself, wobbly, in place.  
  
Gladio’s teeth didn’t loosen their grip. His jaw was large enough to cover Ignis’ whole throat and part of his shoulder; just a small squeeze for Gladio and Ignis’ throat would be crushed, he knew. It was lucky they had Prompto there to make sure whoever needed curatives got them in good time, since Noct and Gladio were incapable of accessing the armiger as wolves. Ignis could in theory, but not always in practice.  
  
It wasn’t so much that Ignis genuinely feared that Noct and Gladio would kill him or each other. He didn’t think they’d even damage each other that greatly. But sometimes when he was overcautious, as he knew he tended to be, it was a weight off his shoulders. It never hurt to be careful; it was better safe than sorry. He was extremely lucky Prompto was there and willing to participate as much as he was.  
  
Which reminded him — he looked again to Prompto, just to make sure he was fine and not being considered by Noct. It was unlikely, given that Noct would be watching the initial knotting most intently of all, except perhaps when Gladio mounted him, but it never hurt to be careful. Prompto was fine, still on the chair, though no longer actively masturbating. Noct was watching Ignis with his golden, beautiful eyes.  
  
Gladio's knot swelled larger than Noct's, and Ignis took it despite his weak struggles — there was no option not to. He was panting, sobbing out weak whimpers, when Gladio let them both down to the floor and turned around, so that he faced the opposite direction. It tugged at the knot and Ignis found himself shoving back into him to stop the pain of it yanking. Gladio's tail lay draped over his back, and Gladio's sprawled legs crushed Ignis' legs down.  
  
They lay there, and Ignis wondering distantly whether he'd be able to get back up again after Gladio was done knotting him. How much come was inside him now, after both Gladio and Noct were done? He'd need to get up regardless of whether he could or not. Noct and Gladio were too large to fuck him if he was lying flat on the floor.  
  
His whole body throbbed in time with either his or Gladio's heartbeat; he couldn't tell whose. Pain flickered along the edges of each beat, but so long as he lay still then it wasn't too bad. His stomach had stopped cramping, at any rate, and his hips ached but the sharpest pain was gone.  
  
Prompto slept during full moon nights. When Ignis had asked he'd said he slept more if he had work the next day, but generally napped in bursts throughout the night. He was a light sleeper, he said, and he's added with a flush and a wink that someone always made enough noise to wake him up when things got interesting.  
  
Ignis wondered if he was napping now. If he moved between chairs or if he simply slept where he'd been masturbating. The latter option was somehow bothering, but then, he told himself, it wasn't any different to sleeping in bed after masturbating, or having sex. And Prompto always showered after full moon nights with the rest of them.  
  
Turning to look at Prompto to determine whether or not he was sleeping seemed dangerous, not only in bringing attention to him when Noct would be most eager, but also in waking the pain that had decided to go quiet since Gladio had knotted him. If he moved his head, twisted his spine, then maybe it would come back. It was cowardly, but he couldn't bring himself to move. He could hear Noct and Gladio's long, slow breathing, and neither of them seemed very much like they were about to go for Prompto.  
  
He could almost sleep like this. If he didn't concentrate on the pain then it was almost acceptable, to lie on the floor knotted to Gladio. His body was exhausted, which made it easier to drift.  
  
Gladio shifted, pulling at the knot and breaking Ignis from his doze, and the pain made Ignis tense up. That hurt as well, layering pain on pain. His head pounded with a tension headache. How long had it been since Gladio had knotted him? It was hard to say. Perhaps it would be almost over and Noct's turn again — he hoped not, even though it'd be better if it was, because that would mean the night would be over sooner.  
  
Shifting again, Gladio made a low, content sound, then settled. His knot was decreasing, Ignis decided, but if Gladio wasn't going to pull away then he wouldn't do it for him. At least he could enjoy the ebbing stretch and agony of that stretch.  
  
After another short while, Noct forced the issue by standing. Gladio turned his head and got up on his forelegs, leaving his cock still inside Ignis, though it slipped out a little. Ignis ducked his head and tried to breathe through the nausea that came with the wet absence of Gladio's cock inside him.  
  
Noct and Gladio often bickered, but in human form it was typically good natured and well-matched teasing and ruffling of feathers. It was part of Gladio's job to push Noct out of his comfort zone, so of course there were also raised tempers. As wolves the heady intoxication of animal instinct and possessiveness, the need to establish rank and order over territory, meant that bickering took on a new edge. The fact that they both now had the weapons of tooth and claw attached to their bodies did not help.  
  
Gladio turned to face Noct and grumble a warning at him: he wasn't done, so back off. In turn, Noct snorted and huffed and took a step closer, trying out Gladio's patience. Gladio's grumble turned into a snarl, and Ignis covered his head with his arms.  
  
The fight was short. Ignis ended up rolled to one side, his arm buzzing with pain from Noct's teeth where he'd grabbed Ignis and dragged him out from under Gladio. His arm throbbed but didn't feel broken. He was bleeding from a couple of places, and bruises were already forming. Ignis opened and closed his fist gingerly, which stung but revealed no damage beyond surface-level, so it wasn't too bad. It usually wasn't too bad, and when it was it was simply because Noct and Gladio were operating on the logic that everyone was as large and strong as themselves. He couldn't fault them. They were wolves, not human.  
  
He could hear them a metre or two away, finishing their fight with posturing and growling. Ignis imagined the way their fur stood up, stiffened, like a bristle brush. Noct probably wasn't quite ready for round two of fucking, if they were still at it, which meant Ignis had a moment to rest.  
  
Or not. He'd have to find a new position that meant they could access him, since he wouldn't be able to keep his knees underneath him now. The best place to drape himself where he wouldn’t have to hold his own body up was the arm of the sofa. The thought of having to get himself up onto his feet and then on the sofa sent a surge of despair through him. He'd have to, and soon, but he didn't think he could.  
  
He needed to, so he could. As he was, curled on his side, the first step would be to push himself over onto his elbows and knees. He could do that with his uninjured arm, so that wouldn’t be too much of a problem. Carefully, he worked his arm to the correct position and pushed, trying to lever himself up with the least amount of movement from the rest of him. Tensing his hips and stomach hurt, suddenly and sharply, and Ignis' arm gave way. He landed back on the floor with a _whumph_ and muffled cry of pain as his whole body was jarred.  
  
This was ridiculous. He was being ridiculous, he told himself. He had overcome worse pain and physical exertion many times before, in training, in Crownsguard exams. He should be able to do this. He needed to be able to.  
  
He held his breath in his mouth as he levered himself up a second time, pausing for a moment after getting onto his knees. When something touched his shoulder he flinched from it; it was Prompto, he realised belatedly.  
  
"Dude," Prompto was saying, crouched down beside him. "You need help?"  
  
"You shouldn't be this close," Ignis said. "Prompto, please."  
  
"Let me give you a hand first," Prompto said, as admirably stubborn as ever, even if he were putting himself in danger for it. "Or a potion? D'you need a potion?"  
  
Ignis paused. It was true that a potion was extremely attractive. To not hurt, even if just for a moment. To not compound new injuries onto old ones. But a potion would also mean that he would tighten up again, a disadvantage he’d learnt from experience. Not enough to matter normally — not that he needed potions during more normal sex — but when he was stretched out to such extremes as this the difference would make itself known.  
  
"Help me onto the armrest," he said, because he knew Prompto wouldn't be satisfied with just leaving, and he needed Prompto out of harm's way as soon as possible. "I'm fine without a potion."  
  
"You sure?" Prompto said, but he had his hands under Ignis' armpits and was hauling him up onto his feet. Noct made a sound, mostly inquisitive and not per se a call for concern, except for the fact that he was up and paying attention to Prompto, and that was immediately alarming. Using Prompto as a crutch Ignis pushed himself forwards and caught himself with his hands on the sofa armrest, then allowed himself to collapse at the waist over it. His legs splayed out, feet dragging, sole upwards, which meant taking most of his weight on his stomach. He tried to tell himself it was fine, and it didn’t hurt too much, or feel too much like he was going to throw up or faint.  
  
Prompto was still there at his side. "Prompto," Ignis said, trying not to let the pain or nausea or faintness show in his voice. "Please get back."  
  
"And you're sure you don't need anything?"  
  
"I need to you to get back." It would sound more commanding if his voice wasn't reduced to a pathetic, tight wheeze. And Prompto was earnest and always eager to help, while at the same time not always knowing whether or not what he was doing was a help or hindrance. But Ignis was thankful he was there. He wouldn’t have been able to get up onto the armrest by himself, or at least not in time.  
  
Thankfully, Prompto did withdraw, only seconds before Noct padded up behind Ignis to press his wet nose up and down Ignis' inner thigh and the cleft of his arse. He ignored Prompto as Prompto made his hasty retreat back to the corner of the room, and looking over Ignis saw that Gladio wasn't paying him any attention either. Gladio was lying on the floor, head between his front paws. His mouth was open and his ears pricked up and alert, but he was clearly relaxed and not interested in either Prompto or his earlier bickering with Noct. There was no physical sign of their fight on him.  
  
Noct reared up and braced himself with his forelegs half wrapped around Ignis' waist and half on the armrest. It kept the majority of his weight from Ignis, and it stopped him squeezing so hard. It also meant he was more stable when he lined himself up and pushed into Ignis in a single, hard thrust.  
  
Too late, Ignis realised he should have asked Prompto for more lubricant. Not too late for regret; he dropped his head, hair brushing the cushions, and let Noct fuck him.  
  
He was getting blood into the upholstery from the scratches in his arm, and also possibly from some internal tearing, if the increased amount of liquid on his thighs and balls were indicative of anything. Regardless, he'd have to have the whole thing professionally cleaned. The thought managed to distract him for a few seconds, watching the patches of blood he'd already smeared on the dark fabric, before the beat of Noct's cock inside him and the swelling pain brought him back.  
  
He should have taken the potion. He'd tore, almost certainly, going by the familiar sharpness of the pain. The way it felt like Noct was driving a dagger into him instead of his cock, all the way up to his lungs, even though he knew that was impossible.  
  
There wasn’t anything to do but wait it out, biting back whimpers. He needed to work through the pain rather than trying to force it away, but it was hard. There was a pun, he thought, grasping at any distraction. The fabric of the sofa was woven wool, thick and smooth and seamless, but it still dug into his hips and stomach, rubbing his sensitive skin, and with Noct thrusting at him from behind threatened to scrape his cock raw too.  
  
He clutched at Noct's paws as if they were hands, threading his fingers between Noct's toes. He squeezed and Noct growled, shaking his forelegs until Ignis let go and grasped onto the cushion instead. He'd got blood on Noct's fur as well, he noticed, and tried to lick his thumb to wipe it off. His coordination was terrible; he could barely place his thumb in the right spot on Noct's fur, and when he did, he couldn't really rub it as it needed. His eyesight was more blurred than it ought to be. He blinked and it cleared a little, though not enough. Noct grumbled and shook Ignis’ clumsy hand off.  
  
After Noct the night would be half-way through, at least in activities rather than absolute time. But even if there was more time to get through, more of it would be spent simply lying where he was left or needed to be, undisturbed, and Noct and Gladio recovering on the sidelines. Or Noct and Gladio recovering and he was left on the sidelines, until needed. He couldn’t think.  
  
Noct adjusted his grip on Ignis' waist and pumped in at an angle that made nausea roll up Ignis' lungs and throat and sit behind his eyes. His thrusts deepened as he stepped a little forwards and into a better position. Perhaps it meant he'd be done soon, Ignis thought, then caught himself. He wasn't even half-way through the night. He couldn't afford to be thinking about it finishing so needily.  
  
He just needed to let it happen. Float down the current instead of fighting it. It hurt. It hurt, but that was okay. He was needed to do this, so he would. It didn't matter if it hurt or not. He'd do it.  
  
By the time Noct knotted him he was crying, hiding his face in the seat cushion and behind his arms. The pain of the knot made him wriggle forwards without meaning to, pushing against the floor with his toes, and Noct leant forwards in turn to follow him, keep his cock in place while the knot swelled and tired them together. Ignis grabbed hold of Noct's wrists and panted and gasped and sobbed to feel himself stretched even wider. He knew, distantly, that he should be controlling himself for Prompto's sake, but there was a disconnect between thought and action. He knew he should, but to actually do it? The process was too complex to muddle through. And he didn't think he could even if he knew how, anyway.  
  
With the knot fully swollen Noct got off the sofa carefully, setting his paws down without noise, and turned so that he was facing away, tail brushing up over Ignis' back like Gladio's had done. There was no thrust, no push and pull, which meant there shouldn't be the dip and high of pain like there had been. It was still there, though, just in time with his own heartbeat and the way his cramps swelled and seized, making him knead the seat cushion, white knuckled. Not long. Almost half over. Almost half over for another month.  
  
Noct's fur prickled on the skin of his arse and thighs and back. It felt like flies biting him, or razor wire. He wanted to push Noct away — his fur, the warmth and weight of his body, his cock stretching Ignis so wide as to tear him apart. Something warm was trickling down Ignis' leg. Whether it was come or blood or lube, or a mix of all three, he couldn't tell. He wasn't sure what he wanted it to be.  
  
Time stretched on, and Ignis rode the waves of cramps through it. He could feel himself start to drift. Then, eventually, Noct's knot began to shrink and he slid out of Ignis. With a groan Noct made it a few steps to the side, and slumped down onto his belly. Ignis turned his head to look at Noct, and Noct opened his mouth and let his tongue loll out, panting.  
  
Evidently Gladio thought that Noct had taken his time, because almost as soon as Noct was down Gladio heaved himself up. Ignis saw his cock, red and thick and hard, and turned his face back down into the cushions.  
  
He couldn't tell how long Gladio had been fucking him before he started to drift properly. Ignis grasped at the soothing blankness, the loss of himself, and dropped himself to fall deeper into it. It was just pain. He didn't need to do anything at all except allow it. The noises coming out of his mouth were, he guessed, obscene, but that didn't matter. Prompto would have heard them whatever Ignis did, and what did it matter that what came out of Ignis' mouth was just as obscene as the rest of him, legs spread, gaping wide, dripping down his thighs as a wolf fucked deep into him with its giant cock? All he needed to do was allow the pain and float, unthinking.  
  
When Gladio knotted him, swelling as he continued to thrust as deep as he could, something tore, badly. The pain of it dragged Ignis out of his dissociation and he screamed before he could stop himself. He scrabbled at the cushions, but Gladio's paws on his waist and hips, and his weight pressing down on him, pinned him. Reaching behind himself he shoved at Gladio, but the knot was already swollen too large to pull out, and Gladio leant down and grabbed Ignis by the nape of his neck until he stopped struggling.  
  
He could feel blood pool inside of him, and blood from his thighs to ankles where it had had the time to leak out. His back arched, up and down, attempting to find the position where the pain was least. His hands shook too hard to grasp at the cushions or Gladio. His fingers were too weak.  
  
"Gladio — Gladio, please—" he didn't know what he was begging for, since there was nothing Gladio could do. To pull out now would only damage Gladio and tear Ignis open far worse than he was already.  
  
"Iggy?" Prompto was standing up, making ready to cross the room towards them, when Gladio growled. The noise reverberated through Ignis. Prompto hesitated. "Iggy? Are you okay? Potion?"  
  
A potion would make him tighter, and he didn't think he could be any tighter around Gladio without causing Gladio an extreme amount of pain. Pain enough that he might lash out, or try to pull from Ignis. And Gladio was definitely sounding like he didn't want Prompto to come any closer.  
  
"Iggy?" Prompto must have taken another step closer, because Gladio's growls intensified until he vibrated from it, out of his lungs and through the rest of his and Ignis' bodies.  
  
"I'm fine," Ignis said, though it was more of a gasp, carried out on a struggling exhale.  
  
"Don't think I'm convinced," Prompto said, and Gladio's growl turned harder still, and he put the tip of his snout against Ignis' back, just below his neck. His bared teeth were hot and smooth, and his breath scalding. The short, bristling fur poked into Ignis' skin like needles.  
  
"Please. I'm fine."  
  
Prompto retreated, or at least Ignis assumed he did, because Gladio's growling abated, and he lifted his muzzle from Ignis' neck. The agony still throbbed through him. How much blood was filling up his guts? He was sore, bloated, but he knew that was from the internal bruising, the physical pounding and not from being inflated with come and blood. Whether it was better or not, he didn't know. He imagined it all mixed inside him, blood turning pink from the puddles of come pumped deep into his guts.  
  
Time turned uneven, hard to judge. It felt like an eternity lying underneath Gladio, feeling himself bleed into his own body, blood trapped behind the knot that stretched him beyond his limits. But then, somehow, it was over, and Gladio was pushing back off him, and it was all Ignis could do to lie there and feel the liquid pour down his legs. It burnt his skin, or at least it felt like it did; surely it couldn’t be hotter than body temperature.  
  
Prompto was there, shoving a wad of towel between his legs and breaking a potion over his back at the same time. "Sorry dude," he was saying, oddly light and breathless. "Know I should ask and all, but you really needed that."  
  
"Thank you," Ignis said, and his voice was hoarse to the point of cracking. There wasn't any more pain, but his body ached, and he felt certain that if he did move at all the pain would return in a flood. The thought was terrifying; he breathed as shallowly as he could and didn't move.  
  
"Looks like they're taking a break," Prompto said, slightly more close to his cheerful voice, though still quieter than usual. Sensible, given the mass of volatile wolf in the room, and how Prompto was now running the towel up and down Ignis' legs, all over what belonged to them. They didn't do anything, though, too complacent and lazy after their second fuck of the night. Ignis stared down at the stains in the seat cushions. He'd probably have to get entirely new ones, since the amount of blood meant it’d probably soaked through the covers. He didn't want to think of the mess he'd made down the outside of the armrest. At least the sheets on the floor were easily replaceable.  
  
The towel was dry, wet only with blood and probably some amount of come, so Ignis had the feeling that Prompto was just smearing the mess over even more of his skin than it had been originally. He couldn't manage to object. He was too tired to even speak.  
  
Prompto left, and Ignis heard his footsteps into the kitchen and then the tap running. He hoped, abstractedly, Prompto was using a new towel instead of getting blood all over the kitchen sink. When Prompto returned and wiped him down with a warm, damp towel, he could only sigh at that tiny measure of relief.  
  
While he was wiping Ignis down, Prompto’s other hand stayed on Ignis’ hip or thigh, wherever was the most convenient for the position he was in. Ignis wished he’d remove it; his skin felt raw, scalded, and every small touch made him want to shake himself free of it, as a dog shook off biting flies. When Prompto touched too hard, pressed his fingers in like squeezing fruit to see if it was ripe, phantom pain chased itself up and down Ignis body. It shouldn’t hurt. There was no reason for it to hurt. But it did.  
  
Prompto tossed the towel to one side and wiped Ignis down again with another dry one. "All done," he said, cheerful, and trailed his now free hand up to Ignis arse. "I mean, you’re not going to want to skip that shower in the morning, but good enough for now." He pushed two fingers into Ignis; the stretch and friction stung.  
  
"Well, shit," Prompto said, and though there was concern he didn’t sound especially surprised. "Gonna need to stretch you out again."  
  
It was undeniably true. If he were to take Noct and Gladio again then he’d need all the preparation he could get. Likely more than Prompto would be able to give him in what time they had. But at the same time, he wanted to tell Prompto not to. Even the thought of Prompto fingers inside of him made him feel sick; the friction and burn of them actually inside him was like barbed wire. Hyper-sensitive, every motion Prompto made felt magnified a hundred-fold.  
  
Prompto didn’t wait for Ignis to agree but withdrew his fingers a little way, brought out the lubricant from the armiger, and squeezed some out. He pushed his two fingers back into Ignis, and scissored them apart to squirt more lubricant directly into Ignis. Ignis groaned from the cold and stretch. It would be easy to kick Prompto away, or shove himself forwards or to the side to separate them that way. He just needed to create a little space around himself that someone wasn’t pressing into. Just needed to be able to breathe. But he couldn’t, because it’d mean he wouldn’t be ready for Noct and Gladio.  
  
Prompto pressed in a third finger, then a fourth, and Ignis managed finally to bite down on the low groan that had formed in his throat. "Fuck, you’re tight," Prompto said, as he pumped his fingers in and out, slow, having to force them in against the tight pressure of Ignis’ hole. "Fuck."  
  
Gritting his teeth, Ignis tried to force himself to relax into it. Prompto’s other hand skated across Ignis’ back, as if trying to touch him in as many places as possible. With his eyes closed Ignis couldn’t see them, but in mind’s eye there were two wolves watching him and Prompto. One’s cock was emerging from its sheath, huge and hard and ready.  
  
Prompto squeezed some more lubricant onto his fingers, working his hand faster at the same time; Ignis tensed up. "Dude," Prompto said, panting, like he was the one being fucked hard and tight and fast. "Relax."  
  
There wasn’t the air in his lungs to reply. Or perhaps his mouth and throat were too uncoordinated for it. He had the distinct feeling that if he did say something, it would be _Please stop._  
  
Prompto’s four fingers were pressed in all the way to the base of his thumb, thrusting in and out, short and deep and hard. The skin at the base of his thumb shoved up painfully against Ignis’ hole with each thrust. When Prompto adjusted his position slightly to put a hand on the small of Ignis’ back, he pressed down until Ignis’ back arched into the sofa, raising his arse, making him move his own feet to also adjust. Ignis groaned, which Prompto seemed to take as a cue to move even faster. Lubricant squelched and dribbled down onto Ignis’ balls, icy cold in the air.  
  
"Prompto," Ignis said, tight through gritted teeth, barely there on his strained exhale. Prompto didn’t stop from where he was working in his thumb. "More gentle. Please."  
  
"Dude, you really think it’d be a good idea to let them fuck you with no prep?"  
  
He didn’t really have an answer to that, because it would be a terrible idea. It didn’t stop him struggling against Prompto pinning him down, squirming and gasping as Prompto nudged his thumb in a little harder, deeper.  
  
By the time the broadest part of his hand was inside Ignis, stretching him as much as Prompto could with his hand, Ignis was holding back the little sounds that came with his harsh breathing. He could concentrate on that rather than the way Prompto was pushing his fist in all the way to his wrist, then withdrawing it to just past the base of his thumb, then pushing in again. Or ignore when Prompto pulled his hand out entirely and patted Ignis’ flank with it, sticky and scaldingly hot.  
  
"Back to gaping," Prompto said with satisfaction, before pushing his hand back in. Ignis felt himself cringe; even though it was what Prompto wanted and he needed, shame burnt across his face. He didn’t want Prompto to see him gape open, stretched and ready to accept whatever was shoved into him, whorish.  
  
It was too bad. It needed to happen and there wasn’t anything Ignis could do but accept that. Only by now he should be worked open, so Prompto didn’t need to be there, making him gape even further. He managed to lift his head. "That should be — Prompto, that should be enough." He could feel Prompto’s hand inside him, clenching and unclenching into a fist. He had to be in half-way up his forearm. The burn of the friction and stretch was starting to push past his tolerances.  
  
"Dunno," Prompto said. "Don’t want you tearing like last time."  
  
Which was, again, a good point. Arguing felt like an insurmountable task when he could barely breathe. He lowered his head and went back to catching the animal sounds, whimpers and sobs through gritted teeth, before they could escape his lips.  
  
This was the last round; both Noct and Gladio would almost definitely want to go again, but given they’d already fucked twice that night they’d be more relaxed about it, and their refractory periods would mean it might be another ten, twenty, or half an hour before one of them — Noct, since Gladio had gone last — was up for round three.  
  
That meant another ten to thirty minutes of Prompto. But at least they didn’t seem interested in Prompto. At least he was safe. Ignis’ skin burnt with sensitivity to the sofa, the air, his own sweat, and Prompto’s hands.  
  
"Prompto," Ignis tried again, as Prompto pushed his fist in hard enough to punch an involuntary yelp from Ignis’ lungs. He felt his face flush; with wolves there was not much need for dignity, but with Prompto he couldn’t help the keen cut of humiliation through him. He’d been collected before, at the beginning of the night, but now he felt skinned. Vulnerable. "Prompto, please — you don’t need to—"  
  
"Better safe than sorry," Prompto said, though he slowed down, squeezing some more lubricant onto his palm and stroking Ignis’ hole with it. Ignis’ breath hiccupped as Prompto’s fingers pressed briefly down on his prostate, but Prompto didn’t seem to notice and it didn’t happen again.  
  
He pressed his forearm in, slowly this time, easing it in as Ignis squirmed and groaned beneath him. He stretched out his hand and Ignis hissed — the feeling of that inside him was always deeply unpleasant, sickening rather than painful, making him go light-headed and his stomach curl, threatening to throw up. Closing his mouth he tried to breathe through his nose, but that just made him suffocate slowly, unable to suck in as much air as he needed. Prompto twisted his wrist and pressed down, into the armrest. It distended Ignis’ stomach, and he moaned as Prompto laughed under his breath.  
  
Extra little shivers of pain slid up into his hips as Prompto pressed in the fingertips of his free hand, pushed up in beside his forearm. "Prompto." Ignis felt Prompto’s lips graze his hip like boiling water. "Prompto, please. Stop."  
  
Prompto’s hands fell still. "You sure?" he said.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"If you say so." Prompto pulled out his fingers, then his arm, slow and careful, dragging out lubricant that dribbled down his legs. He didn’t pull out all the way, but kept his fingers inside, hooked just over the ring of Ignis’ hole. He toyed with the open gape of it, circling his fingers around as it twitched, trying to close, and Ignis was too exhausted to say anything. The words barely even formed as thoughts. It still felt like being scraped raw, flayed, but that was just his imagination. Prompto had removed his fist as asked. It didn’t matter that Ignis just wanted to be left untouched for even a few moments. Prompto must want this, and that was reason enough.  
  
It was about fifteen minutes later that Noct grunted and stretched, groaning as he did so. Prompto withdrew his fingers, already beating a retreat to the other side of the room, and Ignis heard the sound of him throwing himself back in his chair. He had to be tired. He couldn’t have slept that much, given how active he was when Noct and Gladio were resting.  
  
Ignis spread his legs, bracing himself more properly this time. Now he’d had the potion he really didn’t have an excuse to be sloppy. He could feel his hole gaping, cold air on and in it, and against the lubricant smeared generously across his skin. He wondered how much blood and come were left on and in him.  
  
Ignis was mounted without ceremony, the hot, thick furred weight on his lower back and against the backs of his thighs shifting as it adjusted, and then the wolf cock pushed inside him.  
  
It was slow, or at least slower than the times before. Ignis forced himself not to pull away as it fucked into him, each thrust reaching deeper than the last. Noct and Gladio were not, Ignis tried to distract himself with thinking, so intent with depth as humans. Probably it was because of their knot as wolves, the need to be deep as possible for the knot to catch, which made depth so pleasurable to them. Or perhaps they simply liked it. He hoped it wasn’t that they liked it as humans as well but didn’t focus on it, maybe even for his sake.  
  
Noct bottomed out fairly quickly, leaving Ignis to roll his hips in trying to find the most comfortable angle. The thrusting began before he found it, and it hurt too much to move when he was being fucked hard and deep, so he stayed where he was and concentrated on breathing.  
  
It didn’t make much sense that this would be worse than the first time Noct fucked him that night, given he’d just been healed by the potion. Nothing much with wolves made sense, or at least not when laid out like this, open to give so they could take and take and take, like hungry beasts. Like wolves.  
  
In the morning it would be better. It wouldn’t hurt, and Noct would be there next to him, and Gladio, and Prompto, happy and sated, and they loved him and he served them, and that made sense. Even if it didn’t, what did it matter? This was where he belonged.  
  
It would be better in the morning. He would know he chose right in the morning. But that meant he couldn’t pull away now. He couldn’t beg Prompto to stop them, to get them off him. Out of him, from where it was bruising his guts, sawing away at his insides, tearing him open once again, bit by bit.  
  
It was fine. He would be fine. No one would question their potion usage — his expense forms for items used for and on full moon days were unquestioned. He could use phoenix down and no one would mention anything or report misuse, though he imagined whomever filed the forms would raise a silent eyebrow.  
  
It didn’t matter. He’d be fine. He might have to use another potion but that just meant he would be, out of all of them, in the best health come morning. If nothing lingered what did it matter that it happened?  
  
His stomach was cramping again, tight rolls of pain that gripped him then let go, leaving him panting until the next one hit. Claws were scraping his sides bloody as Noct adjusted his grip, and he was light-headed again, though he couldn’t say why. He kept his head down as far as it would go, forehead pressed to the seat cushions, and stifled himself with his forearm against his mouth.  
  
It being the third round, reaching climax would no doubt be harder. It would take longer, and he would be fucked harder.  
  
That didn’t matter. As in all things in his life, if he had to do something then he’d do it. If Noct and Gladio needed him like this then he’d make it happen. And truly, controlling himself and his own body was infinitely easier than herding the council members, or Noct’s PR and press team, or Gladio for Noct’s sake or Noct for Gladio’s sake, or anyone else he had to manage on a day-to-day basis. This was purely self-control, and what good was he if he didn’t have that?  
  
A cold, wet nose pressed to his skin along his shoulders, accompanied by harsh and hot breath. His own skin felt icy cold in comparison to it; Ignis wondered if water would condense on him. He was shivering. A warm shower after this would be nice, before he fell asleep. Or to be rolled into thick blankets at the very least.  
  
His thoughts were jarred by the thrusting changing rhythm, going harder and faster, shallow. He’d be coming soon then, knotting Ignis for the last time for the evening. At least, Ignis hoped desperately that he would be. Once or twice a year either Noct or Gladio decided that they were up for a fourth go. Some of those times they’d even managed to knot him.  
  
The thought was frightening, so Ignis pushed it away. Only three tonight. They’d both already slowed down considerably. Neither seemed very capable of fucking him for a fourth time. He wasn’t capable of being fucked that many times tonight — only he was, he told himself, if he had to be. He’d done it before. All he had to do was allow it. Of course he was capable.  
  
Ignis flinched as a growl, low and irritated, rumbled over him; the expectation of claws, or teeth, dug into the back of his head and wouldn’t be extracted. The wolf fucking him didn’t knot him, despite the change in tempo. It drove into him harder, then slower, shallower, and Ignis’ whole body trembled with the knowledge that there would be no fourth round, but also that this round was not almost over.  
  
He could do it. He’d ride through the pain. He’d let Noct and Gladio do whatever they wanted with him. He could wait as long as it took them, and the worst case scenario was simply that he’d be given phoenix down, like he had been before in training.  
  
He told himself that, then told himself it again. He stared at the black, out of focus grain of the fabric beneath his face. His own breath, saliva and tears were disturbingly hot on his skin. The rest of him, except for his hole that burnt in pain, and his sides which likewise throbbed with bruising and scrapes where the skin had been rubbed off, was icy cold.  
  
The knot, when it finally came, filled him up until he was groaning helplessly. His whole body shook with cold, but every now and then he flushed hot, almost unbearably so, and then almost instantly back cold again. He couldn’t seem to catch his breath even though he wasn’t being actively fucked any more, so there wasn’t a reason for breathlessness.  
  
He didn’t catch the knot shrinking until it was almost down enough to be pulled from him. Then he couldn’t even grasp the importance of that until he was empty, his hips hurting from that as much from being full. He was left, cast over the armrest with his feet and legs limp and trailing across the floor, feeling his heart race and his hole gape and try squeeze down on something that wasn’t there any more. A low, mournful noise made its way out of his mouth. His eyes hurt. His whole body hurt.  
  
Nothing happened for a while. Ignis continued to lie where he’d been left. His arms ached from where he’d put them, over his head to try and brace himself, and he was sure they’d feel better if only he could manage to pull them down to his sides, under his stomach and chest, but he couldn’t manage to. He was bone-tired, too deeply exhausted even to think. He wished he’d stop shaking, because it hurt, and it seemed to be sucking out what tiny scraps of energy his body did have left — but his heart would stop before his body stopped shivering, he felt sure.  
  
When he was mounted he didn’t flinch, but only because his body couldn’t. He hadn’t heard the wolf come up behind him — and it was Gladio, he reminded himself, attempting forceful. Gladio came up behind him, and mounted him, and was now fucking him shallowly.  
  
The last one. Last time. Last one. The words looped themselves in his head and he recited them in time with the thrusts. He realised his mouth was open and he was slurring into the seat cushion, but he couldn’t tell if Prompto could hear, and if he could whether he’d even be able to tell what the words were. He wasn’t sure if he could even tell what he was saying himself.  
  
Gladio’s thrusts got deeper, and Ignis’ slurred words turned into sobs. It was the last time. It would be over soon. In the morning it’d be okay. He’d be glad and proud of his role again. This was worth that pride a thousand times over. To lose it would be unbearable. Gladio thrust deeper, pumping his long cock into Ignis’ belly, but not as fast as he had been before. Slower. More leisurely pace. Longer. Ignis was burning hot again, his whole body throbbing with it, but only for a few seconds — then he turned cold and trembling and aching, tender and sore like a single, massive bruise. His head spun. His heart was racing like it wanted to dash itself to pieces against his ribs. When Gladio hit somewhere deep inside him his stomach clenched and he had to swallow back vomit from the back of his throat. It burnt up his nose instead in a second wave, running out and over his lips and chin, where he wiped at it gracelessly with the back of his wrist. Some dripped onto the sofa. The stink of it, acid, filled up his head and made his gorge rise worse than before.  
  
He wouldn’t throw up. He could control himself. Vomit bubbled out of his nose and he dry retched. He was crying again, but his hands both had vomit on them now, so he had no way of scrubbing the tears from his face. He wiped at his nose instead, trying to get all of it, but more just dribbled out. Behind him, the wolf thrust away, breaking him slowly from the inside out, shoving him bodily back and forth.  
  
There was no clock in Noct’s living room. He couldn’t watch the clock, but also there was no frame of reference — how much longer until moonset? Until he got Noct and Gladio back? It would be longer than it took for them to finish, and for Prompto to administer the potion. But how long was that? It couldn’t be long. He couldn’t take much longer.  
  
The knot took him almost by surprise. Gladio grunted as it caught and his thrusts became ineffective, only good to yank at Ignis and make him whimper. Then he turned around and stood, waiting out the rest of the time until he was done.  
  
Ignis took the time to try and catch his breath. Without the thrusts his stomach finally settled and he could breathe through his open mouth again. There was a ringing sound in his ears. Almost over. This was almost done, until next full moon. He just had to wait this out.  
  
Pain crawled around his body like insects burrowing under his skin, creeping about in his body cavity with sharp little legs and hooked claws. But it was almost over. He just needed to wait until Gladio was done pumping him full of come, and then it’d be over.  
  
Not long. Not long, he told himself, over and over, and time stretched on. It felt like a stone had got stuck behind his eye, wedged into his skull. His whole head throbbed, and the throbbing rolled down his spine in waves. Answering pain from the base of his spine and hips met it and spread out to the rest of his body. It sat in his organs, collecting in his liver and kidneys, pooling in his stomach. Every time his heart beat and ribs squeezed it hurt. It hurt to open his eyes, and it hurt to close them.  
  
Almost over. It couldn’t be long now. He went back to Solheimian numerals, muttering them wetly under his breath, not caring if Prompto heard. He lost count at 23 and had to start at the beginning again. Didn’t matter. It was almost over. And Prompto almost certainly didn’t know Solheimian numerals to know if he was counting correctly or not.  
  
The knot shrank slowly; this time Ignis was aware of it, and it seemed to take forever. He pulled forwards, tugging on it even though it only scraped hot agony through him, and Gladio was growling warningly. He needed it to be over. He couldn’t do it any more.  
  
Then Gladio pulled away, groaning and moving to flop down beside Noct, almost on top of him. Ignis inhaled once, then twice, then his breathing dissolved into shuddering sobs. He flinched from Prompto, who was running a hand up and down his back. It felt like knives on raw skin.  
  
"Nice," Prompto was saying. "You did it, Iggy. That was so good. That was so freaking amazing. Come on. Iggy, come on, up, I know you don’t want your face in that."  
  
Ignis didn’t have the strength to refuse him, or help him. Prompto got his arms around Ignis’ chest and dragged him off the sofa and onto the floor. He left him there, lying on his back, limbs askew, and then returned with a damp cloth. He shoved Ignis up by the shoulders, settling him in his lap.  
  
"Gotta clean you up," he said as he wiped Ignis’ face and neck, "or you’ll kill me in the morning. I’d let you shower but dude, you’re like six foot of muscle and even these guns couldn’t hold you up. And you’d probably drown in bath. No offence but probably a baby is more capable of not drowning than you right now."  
  
Ignis closed his eyes and let Prompto manhandle him, chatting away. He could feel something drip out of him and soak into the blankets he was lying on, but it was too late to do anything about it now. The cloth disappeared and the rim of a glass pressed up against his lower lip. "Wash out your mouth," Prompto said. "Swirl and spit. Imagine you’re at the dentist."  
  
Opening his mouth, Ignis let Prompto pour in the water. He tried to rinse out his mouth as best he could, but the taste was mostly up his nose and in his throat, and when he let the water back too far in his mouth he ended up gagging on it. He swallowed some, spat out most, and dribbled the rest down his chin. He was glad his eyes were closed; he could feel his face flush with humiliation at being unable to even do this, but at least he didn’t have to see Prompto’s reaction.  
  
It meant that Prompto had to wipe his face again, which he did, carefully and thoroughly. The cloth was soft, he knew — he’d bought it — but it felt like sandpaper, and he was glad when Prompto took it away. His face was finally clean; it still took him by surprise when Prompto leant down and kissed him. He stiffened, tensing up, and made a small noise into Prompto’s mouth when the pain in his hips and belly reawoke. Prompto’s hand on the back of his head meant he couldn’t pull away. He opened his mouth and Prompto deepened the kiss, trailing his fingers over Ignis’ chest, tweaking a nipple.  
  
"Prompto—" Ignis said, breathless, when they broke apart. "Don’t — not while Noct and Gladio—"  
  
Prompto shut him up with another kiss, though shorter this time. "You need to stop being so weird about that," he said, and his voice was unbearably fond. "You know they won’t hurt me."  
  
They kissed again, and when Prompto moved down to trail his mouth across Ignis’ neck, then down to his chest and nipples, Ignis turned to look at the wolves lying only metres away. The smaller, darker one was asleep. The larger one was watching them with almond-shaped eyes, deep gold and only partially interested.  
  
Gentle teeth on his nipples made Ignis groan, his body pushing up into Prompto’s mouth despite the way any movement at all hurt. Prompto kept his mouth on Ignis as he shuffled around until he was between Ignis’ thighs, and pushed his legs up with his hands behind Ignis’ knees. He was naked. When had that happened?  
  
"Prompto," Ignis said, as Prompto bent him over a little further, and pain went up and down his body like smashed glass skittering across the floor. "Prompto, please—"  
  
"I’ll be gentle," Prompto said, and hooked Ignis’ left leg over his shoulder so he could hold his erection and guide it into Ignis’ open, wet hole. "You’re so loose, you literally won’t even be able to feel it after those two."  
  
He pushed in, bottoming out in a short, smooth thrust. He groaned, running his hand up and down Ignis’ thigh, and began to thrust.  
  
The sound Ignis made was involuntary, and his head jerked to the side to see what the wolves were doing. They were still lying down, one asleep, the other relaxed and resting.  
  
Hands on the sides of his head tugged him to turn his face back up. "Iggy. Iggy, come on," Prompto said. "They’re fine."  
  
_They’re dangerous_ , Ignis wanted to say. He didn’t say it. It would be wrong to say such a thing about Noct and Gladio to anyone, even Prompto, even if it were true.  
  
The slap of human skin on his own was almost wrong, after so long of fur. Lubricant and come was getting pulled out with Prompto’s cock and smeared across the both of them. The bump of Prompto’s hips against Ignis hurt more than his cock inside him, jarring his whole body with each impact. But Prompto had been right, at least, in that he could barely feel his cock. Ignis clutched at the blankets and tried to let his body relax, stop tensing up and making the pain worse, because in this position Prompto was face-to-face to him and would see every wince.  
  
Prompto was human and could tell when Ignis was in pain. This was one of the few times in the night when Prompto could be included, and it shouldn’t be ruined because Ignis couldn’t control his own facial expressions. He opened his eyes to look up at Prompto, and Prompto grinned down at him with his freckles and bright violet eyes and bed-head hair. Ignis had thought only hours ago that Prompto was beautiful, and that he adored him, and would keep him not just safe but happy. He wanted Prompto to feel as included and loved just as much as he did in their group, only safer than he was, and more comfortable. If Prompto got hurt — if _he_ hurt Prompto — it would be unexcusable.  
  
He reached up and took a gentle hold of Prompto’s skull, combing his fingers through his thick hair. He could disguise his pained panting for pleasure, hide the creases around his eyes and mouth by wrapping his legs around Prompto and pulling him in closer. Tugging, he drew Prompto in to kiss, deep, open-mouthed and panting.  
  
Prompto came, muffling his shout into Ignis’ shoulder where Ignis held him. He rolled off Ignis onto his stomach, breathing hard and grinning even wider than before, visibly tired out in a satisfied sort of way. Without saying anything he pulled a potion from the armiger and broke it over Ignis’ chest, bottle dissolving into light and magic. The pain retreated then vanished, washed away like rinsing crumbs from a dirty plate. The night ended, like flicking a switch.  
  
"Thank you," Ignis said. He stayed where he was; even without pain he wasn’t quite sure he could move.  
  
Prompto smiled at him. "No problemo," he said, all of a sudden soft and sleepy, the energy drained from him. Before Ignis could stop him he reached out to run a hand through Gladio’s rough fur. Gladio snorted at him and put his paw down on Prompto’s arm, pinning it to the floor.  
  
"Unfair," Prompto said, but he didn’t try to wriggle free. Instead he closed his eyes, sighed, and curled up to fall asleep.  
  
Ignis watched him, and the wolves behind them. He felt, even though he was well within arms reach, absurdly alone. It couldn’t be 5:43 yet, though he couldn’t say how far off it was. He should sleep for however many or few hours that was at least. Turning his head he stared up at the ceiling, wondering if he ought to go get his spectacles or if that could wait until morning. His body felt too heavy to move, even to go and turn off the light. He had work in the morning, a full day, so really he should sleep as soon as possible — and besides, the sooner he fell asleep the sooner he’d wake up next to Prompto, Noct and Gladio, who’d be human: sleep-rumpled, gentle, and kind.


End file.
